Chasing Ghosts
by Laerkstrein
Summary: Dr. Retsu Unohana's world is as normal as can be. But when she answers an innocent student's advertisement and meets a sadistic medical examiner, she gets caught up in the decade's greatest serial murder case. A case that's heated up again after a seven-year vacation. AU.
1. You Burned My Resolution

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the _Bleach_ characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chasing Ghosts**

**Chapter 1: **You Burned My Resolution

**A/N: **I'm taking a stab at writing a full-length AU. Oneshots are simple enough, but I'm in the mood for a challenge.

* * *

><p>Over the last few days, the sky had easily become a massive blackboard, scratching out its frightening, almost apocalyptic signs, raining them down upon the city in the form of an uncanny storm. Jagged strips of light touched down in the distance every so often, sparking fires that sent people darting about like a colony of ants under siege. Even from such a wide office window, so far away and high above the ground, it was frightening to see how easily things were consumed, crumbling amidst the flames. It seemed that the heavens had it in for this city, as it had been ravaged by storm and by flood as of late, wiping out multiple businesses and homes. These catastrophes, even those that paled in comparison to this massive fire, were what had the hospital staff working overtime.<p>

Numerous people had been injured, even killed, amidst the chaos, causing off-duty doctors to come in as backup to be used in the Emergency Room. She hadn't liked it, being asked to come in when she was supposed to be on vacation, but her kind heart wouldn't have allowed her to sit idly by while people were suffering like this. After several hours of assisting the ER doctors, she'd been told to take some time to herself. A suggestion which she'd gladly heeded.

Staring out the window, she could see the rain as it now bled down over the city, ignoring the fact that it would cause multiple traffic delays. The wind had picked up as well, rattling the windows with a ferocity that made the patients quiver, fearful that the glass would crack and fly inwards. The cries of children could be heard all up and down the hall, sending nurses and parents scurrying into rooms as a source of comfort.

On the desk, now absent of paperwork and patient files, was a lone sheet of paper that had been picked up from the university bulletin board down in the lobby. It was a flier, a request for a private tutor who had some knowledge regarding Advanced Placement Chemistry and various higher-level Mathematics classes. Upon further inspection, she had noted that, in smaller lettering near the bottom, the flier's author admitted to being a "third-year high school student." That must have been plenty to ward off the tutors on campus, as many students could be heard bad-mouthing their own high school experiences. From what she had gathered, none of them wanted to take on a "wet-behind-the-ears brat."

That had been enough for her to pull the flier down herself, having decided that she, being on a short period of leave, would have quite enough time to assist someone interested in higher learning.

When one of the nurses came by, explaining that everything was under control in the ER, she had gathered up her things and headed down the stairs, fearful of using the elevator, as it the power could go out at any given time during such a storm. Once outside, she found herself lamenting her decision to wear flats, as the forecast had given her no reason to believe in sunshine. Puddles were avoided with an iron focus, earning her several strange glances as she headed towards the bus stop, six blocks away. Had the day been nicer, she would have walked the whole way, not even giving the metal creature the time of day.

After having carefully traversed the many streets hat led to the bus, she sighed, realizing that she'd missed its first run that afternoon. Still nice and dry beneath the umbrella, she leaned up against the side of the bus station, pulling the flier from her purse again. The map at the bottom led to a place that she knew well, as she'd been there on numerous occasions. It was a precise route to Karakura General Hospital, which was a good half hour from her residence within Tokyo. But, for the sake of a student in need, especially one who seemed to have such high standards, an out-of-the-way trip was a small price to pay.

The screeching of brakes snapped her out of her reverie, the bus driver leaning out of his seat so as to help her over a puddle that had collected at the curb. She thanked him, slipping into a seat beneath the heater as she closed her umbrella. A wide-eyed expression overcame her as a familiar flash of white shot past her, settling into the next seat. She smiled, fighting off the urge to pat her companion on the head.

"I know what you're thinking," he said, fussing with his officer's uniform, his cool blue eyes turning to look at her. "Please, don't."

She nodded, smiling at the little idiosyncrasy he'd so swiftly developed. It had only been a few weeks since he'd been in her office, insisting that she be the one to look over his charts, as he didn't trust a doctor by the name of Takimura. As he was the adopted son of a family friend, she had complied and calmly overseen his case, ensuring that everything went well.

"You live further into the city, don't you?" he asked, pointing out the window. "I believe you're on the wrong bus."

Another smile arrived as she patted his shoulder. "I'm on an errand, Toshiro," she replied, handing him the folded-up flier.

His eyes scanned over the colored page before handing it back to her, an amused gleam in his eye. "As always, you try too hard, Retsu," he muttered, touching her hand. "Just as you did for my father."

It was hard on him, speaking of the man. He'd died the year before of Degos disease, just as Toshiro had prepared for his early graduation from the Police Academy. Although she was primarily in charge of Pediatrics, Retsu had made a plea to the hospital's director, fortunately earning permission to offer advice on the case. When the final diagnosis had come through, it had progressed too far for Kirano to receive any kind of significant treatment. She had then informed the family, and Toshiro had sat by his father's bedside, completely disregarding his own ceremony.

"He's proud of you," she said, trying to comfort him.

Harder, still, had been the young man's recent promotion to Captain within the Force. There was much conflict within the police headquarters, and many articles had been strewn across the pages of the newspaper as people questioned the ability of a young man who was barely over eighteen. It was discerning, knowing that they looked down upon him, despite all the good he'd done in the city. Ability was what mattered, as Retsu had told Kirano when his son had graduated high school at fifteen.

When the bus finally screeched to a halt, Retsu glanced out the front window, spotting the stop that was closest to Karakura General. Still in her seat, she placed a kiss on the boy's forehead, taking his hand.

"Don't worry too much about it," she smiled, having read his uncertainty. "Once you've done your part, they'll see how important your role is. Just don't let them see you worrying like this."

Blue eyes seemed to fly to the heavens at this, a smile gracing his young face as she stepped out into the rain, waving as the bus lurched away from the curb.

Reaching into her purse again, Retsu began following the map to the letter, ensuring that she reached each and every street that had been marked. Although she'd frequented Karakura General on numerous occasions, namely during medical conventions, Retsu wouldn't dare try to find the place without a proper map, as Karakura Town was relatively small in comparison to Tokyo. There weren't distinguishing landmarks or buildings on every street corner, or maps on shop windows that told one of their position. It was a quiet, almost dusty, little town that only seemed to come to life at night as one neared the hustle and bustle of the big city.

The rain seemed to let up by now, urging her to close up the umbrella. She ignored it, having the feeling that the storm would worsen significantly before she reached her destination. Four blocks later, said intuition proved to be fact, the wind whistling across the street as it struggled to wrench the handle from her grasp. But she held on tight, the towering building firmly in sight. Stopping at a street corner, Retsu looked both ways before stepping onto the gravel, a loud shout startling her into swinging her purse into the character who had jumped out at her.

Eyes wide, she stared incredulously at the young man on the ground, a sheepish grin on his face. Retsu shook her head, offering him a hand and pulling him to his feet before giving him another good smack.

"One more time, Nakai Igarashi, and I call the police!" she exclaimed, striding far ahead of him.

It always seemed that the kids in this town, namely the high schoolers, had nothing better to do than to frighten "outsiders," as they called them. The boy who had frightened her was one she knew well, as he was the son of one of the researchers at the University Hospital. He'd been in her office numerous times, on the receiving end of lectures as she'd constantly caught him trying to look up the skirts of particularly attractive patients. And, as fate would so miserably have it, the boy seemed to have quite a thing for her, as well.

She feared for students such as Nakai, worrying that they'd end up "amounting to nothing" as so many parents had mentioned. Not having children of her own, Retsu was only inclined to worry about those of the people she considered friends, as she'd watched many of them grow up. Of course, she wouldn't exactly _mind_ fretting over her own offspring.

Her eyes returned to the front, realizing that she stood before the double doors of Karakura General. She pushed forward on the glass, relieved to be well out of the rain. Retsu took care to shake the water off of her umbrella before heading up to the front desk, asking the woman if she knew anything about a student seeking a tutor. To Retsu's surprise, the woman directed her to the East hall, explaining that she needed to find the elevator and take it down to the basement level.

Thanking her, Retsu did as she was instructed, stepping through the metal doors that sat around the corner, quietly wondering exactly _why _a student would be waiting in the basement. When the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Retsu found that the sector was actually very clean, despite what she'd believed. Being a doctor who dealt primarily with children, she'd never once had the chance to venture into the division of the hospital, the Coroner's Office, where the cadavers were kept and autopsies carried out. As such, she'd actually imagined such a place to be dark and uninviting. Stepping out of the elevator, she realized that this defied all of her expectations.

The lights were bright, illuminating the heightened white ceilings and glimmering off the tiled floor. The walls, too, were an off-white color, wooden handrails having been placed along the length of the halls. To her left, there were numerous rooms, some with closed doors and signs that insisted the occupants not be disturbed unless the circumstances were urgent. She glanced down at the slip of paper the woman at the front had given her. It was marked with a big number "8," indicating that the student she was looking for would likely be in that room.

Retsu traversed the hallways, ignoring the strange glances she received from some of the doctors who lingered, clearly taking a much-needed break. She turned the corner, spotting the number etched into the glass of the door. Retsu's hand hovered, wondering if she was really supposed to be here. From what she'd observed, these people seemed to be rather busy, and she didn't want to interrupt. Her fingers rested on the handle, turning it enough so she could peer inside. There was quite a mess on the floor, concocted of blood, ichor, and various metal tools, but no one in sight, bringing curiosity to her eyes. From the other side, she gasped as she felt the door being pulled open, surprised to suddenly find herself staring awkwardly at a dark-haired man, the interest on his face little to none. With one look at her, he turned away, disappearing inside as a young girl, no older than seventeen, slipped through the door, ushering Retsu back into the hallway.

"I'm sorry," the girl said, closing the door behind her. Her quiet eyes were drawn to the paper in Retsu's hand, a small smile crossing her features. "I should have included a phone number."

At a loss for words, Retsu nodded mildly, scouring the flier for any sign of a number. In her haste to answer the call, she had failed to notice the email address at the bottom of the page, set to the left of the map. Had she not been so embarrassed, Retsu would have kicked herself.

As if having read her thoughts, the girl offered her hand. "I'm very glad you came," she said, reaching back inside the door for her things. "It's been weeks since I posted that, and I was starting to think that no one would come. May I ask your name? Mine's Nemu."

Retsu, still somewhat red with humiliation, accepted the girl's hand. "Retsu Unohana," she said, her tone surprisingly level. "I'm a Pediatrician at the University of Tokyo Hospital."

Her eyes widened slightly as Nemu, still smiling, led her down the hall, her grip on Retsu's hand still firm. There was a set of stairs at the end of the hallway that went back up to the ground floor, ending in another small corridor with two sets of doors, one at either end. Retsu followed as the girl led her to the nearest exit, slipping out into a covered drop-off area that was designated for the emergency vehicles. There was a melodic tune as Nemu reached into the pocket of her coat, pulling out a phone with a glowing screen.

"He's called a car for us," she said, her smile finally fading. "It should be here in a few minutes."

Retsu nodded, staring off into the distance as the rain, ever strong, continued to pour down. She had no doubt that she'd be returning to the Cornoner's Office on occasion so as to collect her new ward, but she had no interest in ever opening that door when someone was occupying the room. She hadn't believed that a cadaver could bleed quite so much, a recent death or not. And, for certain, she wasn't particularly interested in seeing such a sight again.

She hesitated to speak as the car rolled around, the two of them sliding into the backseat as Nemu gave the driver instructions. A part of her wanted to know who it was that the girl had been with in that room, while the other side insisted that she not ask any questions.

"Who was that with you before?" she heard herself ask.

Nemu turned her gaze to the window, sighing as the vehicle lurched forward. "My father."

**# - # - # - #**

The instant that silhouette had appeared, he'd ended up with that sinking feeling. Another oblivious soul to further add to the impossible pressure. As if dealing with yet _another _murder victim wasn't enough, the girl had given some random stranger directions to one of the only places on the planet wherein he could think. To make things worse, the woman who had arrived seemed to have no bleeding idea as to who she was looking for. Blind stupidity if he'd ever seen it.

As far as he was concerned, this woman, whom Nemu had insisted was her tutor, was just another hapless invader. It seemed as if all manner of unwelcome people were working themselves to the bone for a chance to watch him writhe. Teachers, colleagues, family members of the dearly departed. They all had some motive, and, to his current case of paranoia, everything seemed to lead back towards him. Never mind the string of killings that had occurred over the past six weeks, they all seemed to have some reason as to inquire about the girl.

Regardless of their purposes, her well-being was nobody's damned business. He wouldn't deny that his judgment was unstable, despite the obvious approval he garnered through his work, but if this woman turned out to be yet another undercover cop, present only to gauge his mental stability, there would be another pathologist picking apart the woman's corpse while he sat in a prison cell.

He turned, staring intently at the clock that hung on the wall. Another fifteen minutes, and the woman would likely be drinking tea and laughing about useless female things in his haven. It would be miserable, considering leaving this place within the hour, but there was no strict schedule that demanded he go straight home. He'd determine how long she would be there, and would then orchestrate the rest of the night based upon that fact.

For a moment, he almost wished she'd walked into the room. That way, he could have sent her off with a disturbing mental photographs of the bloodied cadaver lying on the autopsy table. From the looks of her, the woman seemed to be a bleeding heart, the kind of person who couldn't stand seeing injury, let alone the carved and dissected corpse of a man, diagnosed weeks earlier with terminal lung cancer, who'd been carved up after being offed with morphine.

For years, they'd called him grim, which wasn't exactly an understatement. It was amusing, seeing the looks on people's faces when they came in to hear about that which had killed their loved ones. The way they'd stare at the corpse and then at him was more than enough to make him laugh. But he'd keep that twisted pleasure to himself, for the sake of being "professional" and not coming off as a sadistic bastard.

But for her, an intruder, he would have liked nothing more.


	2. Such Disarming Eyes

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the _Bleach_ characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 2: **Such Disarming Eyes

* * *

><p>By the time Nemu had unlocked the front door, the two of them were drenched, stumbling haphazardly into the foyer, struggling out of the coats that were now weighing them down. Upon throwing hers upon a hook and removing her ruined shoes, Retsu glanced at the watch on her wrist, surprised to find that, despite being soaked through, it was still working. It read as being half past seven, which was little shock as the drive over had taken much longer than anticipated, thanks to the slick roads and the car accident that had occurred a mile up the road.<p>

Her gaze shot to her hand, expecting her umbrella to be there. She laughed, remembering that, while walking up to the door, the item had been easily whisked out of her hand by the wind, carried off to some unknown place in the distance. As Nemu hurried off to prepare some hot tea, she insisted that Retsu settle down and have a seat. The doctor did so, easing herself into the earth-toned couch in the front room, just beside the large window. She peered out, surprised to find that, even from here, a portion of the fire on the south side of Tokyo could still be seen. There were large plumes of smoke rising from the flames, which was the only service the rain had done the area in the weeks it had been present.

Deciding to focus on more pleasant things, Retsu returned to admiring the rather reserved décor, somewhat taken aback at the idea that someone so... unpleasant could have enough sense as to furnish a home. Leaning forward, she spotted Nemu in the kitchen, tending to a slowly heating kettle on the stove. She stood, wandering idly about the rooms, noting that there were two sets of stairs in the hallway ahead of the foyer, leading in opposite directions.

She then slipped through that narrow hallway, realizing that there was a closed-off room on the north end of the kitchen, one that seemed to be some kind of shrine. Retsu wound her way back into the sitting room, noting the absence of any form of entertainment save for two dark shelves of books, many of which were written in foreign languages.

Had she not such a horrid first impression of the man, Retsu might had been impressed. And that was a very big "might."

When she heard the kettle being placed upon the stove again, she returned to her seat on the couch, suddenly noticing the large glass coffee table that was positioned before it. Once the tray had been set down, Nemu circled back to the foyer, gathering up her books and rushing off to a closet, only to return with towels.

"May I ask you something?" Retsu inquired, an idea having struck her. "Your father... He's a doctor," she felt sick having to apply such a word to the man, "so shouldn't he be able to tutor you?"

Nemu shrugged her shoulders a bit, offering Retsu a towel. "He's busy," she replied, placing a cup of tea on the table. "It's not a big deal, really. When I asked three weeks ago, it's not like I expected him to say yes in the first place. That's when I decided to put up fliers."

Completely disregarding her tea, Retsu fastened her eyes on the girl, reading into her eyes and weeding out the melancholy glaze that had settled. She had denied it, but Retsu could see that she was indeed bothered by the fact that her father couldn't spare the time to teach her.

"And why is that?" Retsu knew she was prying, and into the lives of perfect strangers, no less, but she couldn't help it. This girl was, for whatever reason, suffering. Having dealt with children and teenagers for the majority of her career, Retsu could spot discomfort from a mile away.

Another shrug was the response she received as the book was laid out on the table, a pen marking where Nemu had left off. "It's hard work," her hands were in her lap now, "dealing with corpses. Discovering their secrets, why they died, what was wrong with them aside from diseases and addictions. Sometimes, he doesn't even come home." Her eyes met Retsu's, quiet and disarming. "That's why I put a map to the hospital on the flier. I was trying to work out a situation where he could work while I studied. It worked for a while, but he's of the impatient sort."

It was sad, trying to put herself in this girl's shoes. An only child, living with a possibly unhinged father, with no sign of a mother at all. Not even a photograph, from what she'd gathered. At the very least, Retsu hoped that this girl had someone to rely upon. Extended family, teachers, friends. Anyone who would so much as listen to the problems she faced. It was a fortunate thing that Retsu had paid attention to that flier. It had led her to a girl who very much needed someone there to listen and understand.

"We don't talk much anymore," she added, copying down various equations in her notebook. "At least, not about things that really matter. What I do, where I go, who I spend my time with. I think he stopped caring a while back. That is, if he ever cared at all."

Retsu's gaze softened, a quiet apology manifesting in her heart. Had she known all this, she wouldn't have dared to bring it up. This child, innocent and lacking in so many ways, seemed to be only half of what she should have been. A shell, as it were, missing a complete occupant to fill the gap. In terms of her nature, she seemed perfect. The kind of proper young woman that the world sincerely needed more of. She was focused, knowing exactly what she wanted out of life. It just seemed that she didn't know how to get there.

"I don't remember much, but I do know that my mother died. She was a victim in a series of killings seven years ago."

The doctor was taken aback by this, the memories of the headlines leaving their mark upon her vision. The Irooni Killings, as they'd been called, had gone on for several months, the killer having randomly selected victims based on something so simple as the color that both he, and the designated target, were wearing.

That had been seven years ago.

In a sense, this child was like a broken china doll, missing the pieces crucial to her repair. She'd grown up without a mother, watched over by her seemingly distant father. It was an existence that Retsu didn't want to contemplate, but the girl's comments had already forged an image in her mind.

"I can't even remember the last time he really smiled. He was never warm towards me, even before she died." She sighed, having turned to watch the rain fall."But he was mine. What made it worse," she swallowed, warding off what Retsu assumed to be tears, "was that he was the pathologist involved in the case. They brought her in, and he didn't do anything."

The girl was sobbing now, hands balled into fists in her lap, her body shaking with the tremors. Retsu, if in her place, wouldn't have been able to open up to a complete stranger. But, with the lack of a maternal figure in her life, she just assumed that the girl needed to let off some steam, to bear her soul to _someone _whom she believed would understand.

All the same, it was somewhat uncomfortable, hearing all of this from a girl she'd only met a couple hours before.

"After my mother passed, people, mostly my teachers, would ask if he ever hurt me; if I'd ever been mistreated. I guess they just didn't want to believe that he'd died with her. So, I guess you could say I've been living with a ghost."

**# - # - # - # **

It was well after ten when he'd gathered enough nerve to even think about leaving. Due to the nervous behavior of the new director, a real bitch in her own right, and the obvious fact that she didn't trust him, she hadn't permitted him to so much as reach the stairs until he'd given the officers in charge of the murder case a thorough explanation as to the death of the ruined cadaver in storage. The man's death, as he'd expressed to the police, seemed to have been nothing short of a passing daydream. Traces of morphine had been found in his system, well over the legal dose allotted to pain patients. But, given the evidence, traces of dirt and gunpowder on his clothing, his life had ended outside of a hospital setting.

They'd seemed pleased with that statement, making a note that the forensic evidence matched traces of the environment in which the body had been found.

Even after that, the insatiable harpy had been reluctant to let him leave, regardless of the fact that the police were prepared to rule the man's death as another murder. The ninth since the killings, which had ceased for seven years, had started up again. It was clear that she had it out for him, as every last record of an autopsy had to be in pristine condition before she'd even think about looking at the thing. It was for this very reason that he'd given up on trying to remember her name. It was to spite her, speaking to her in a manner that very much reflected his more casual conversations with the bartender further into the city.

And, if that wasn't enough to make the woman wring her hands, Mayuri would greatly enjoy imagining her face when, and if, she learned that he'd been a bit buzzed for the latter half of the day.

The vehicle had rolled around shortly after the hour, allowing him to slip inside, hands digging into the leather. He was now fighting off thoughts of the uncoordinated invader who had very nearly hit the floor earlier that day. There could be no denying that she was interesting, going so far as to answer the call of a high school student. Especially a call that had led her into the Coroner's Office. But, by first impression, she was a ditz, the likes of which one might see lingering around a seedy bar in downtown Tokyo.

Just one more reason to want to avoid her.

He'd paid the driver through the window before the cab sped off down the street, leaving him to revel in the moisture that was still pouring down in sheets. Most people had said that the heavens were raining misery down over the inhabitants of the city as penance. What a load that was. As if the heavens, the clouds and the remainder of the atmosphere, were sentient. The stupidity of people had suddenly put a severe damper on the fact that he'd shamelessly one-upped the director. Again. Mayuri pushed the door shut with a click, his sole focus on a bit of self-medication before passing out over whatever table his papers would be strewn across that night.

"I apologize for earlier. I can understand the irritation that follows being interrupted."

The tone was laughable, not even worth his notice. He made no move towards her, shrugging off her awkward attempt at introducing herself so as to wander to the liquor cabinet on the eastern wall of the kitchen. It was funny, watching her eyes widen as her jaw slackened. Clearly, this woman, whoever the hell she was, was certainly not a fan of watching doctors "in their right mind" take a load off with a glass of scotch.

Being who he was, Mayuri certainly didn't fit her silent description of a self-respecting doctor.

"She's _still _here?" He turned to Nemu, who had lowered her gaze to the floor. "By the gods..."

The girl nodded, meeting his eyes for a moment, before murmuring a quiet, "We were talking."

The moment of silence was abruptly interrupted by this strange, yet indignant woman, who had the nerve to invade his personal space.

"Don't talk about me like I'm not here," she hissed, pointing a finger at him. "I'm not one of your lackeys, so treat me with respect."

Mayuri smirked, trying to come up with something that would genuinely bother her. The woman's eyes widened as he pulled the lid off the glass bottle, bringing it to his lips. She flinched, the idea to slap the object out of his hand now reflected in her eyes.

"So far as I'm concerned, you're an employee." He held the bottle out of her reach, easily sidestepping her vain attempts to take it away. His eyes settled on Nemu, who now boasted a very entertained smile. "I'm paying her for this, aren't I?"

She nodded, giving his words even more bite than originally intended. She _was _a lackey.

The woman, whose name he still didn't give a damn about, was staring again, the realization of his state of mind having hit her like a two ton truck full of bricks. "You're... drunk!"

For someone who believed herself to be terribly brilliant, she was rather slow when it came to picking up on the obvious. Her statement had proven true, as Mayuri knew damn well that he was far more of an outspoken bastard when sober. But bothering her in this fashion, given his displeasure at having been interrupted earlier, was well worth it, even if he ended up sick as hell in the morning.

Unlike most people, namely that shameless son of a bitch who owned and frequented the local winery for women, he couldn't hold his liquor worth his life. A fact that he'd be more than happy to keep hidden from her, as she might go so far as to destroy one of his means of relaxation. He was ignoring her chattering now, still having enough awareness to remember that he had some godawful report to finish for the authorities. He waved her off, retreating downstairs as she hollered after him.

"Not ten minutes with you, and I can already see that you're the most impossible man on the planet!"

He wouldn't argue with that.

* * *

><p>Go ahead. Tell me I'm cruel. I can take it.<p> 


	3. Drowning With A Prayer

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the _Bleach_ characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 3: **Drowning With A Prayer

* * *

><p>Even a heated mug of morning coffee wasn't enough to satisfy his thirst. Three weeks since his promotion to the rank of captain, and he was already being driven out of his mind. The chief had practically jumped at the chance to present him with this case, intent on seeing his genius in action. Being very dedicated to his duty, Toshiro had pounced on the investigation like a prowling beast, willing himself to go on, even in the strong face of adversity.<p>

That had been a week ago, when the case was still fresh and there were leads. Whoever this killer was, he had a point to prove and drive into the hearts of the members of the Force. His methods were erratic, uncanny, killing with all manner of unorthodox methods. His favorite, it seemed, was sedation. It was as if he were hinting that he was a professional, a doctor, perhaps. Although it was certainly something to go on, it also made the case that much more unnerving.

The young officer brought the mug to his lips, scowling bitterly as the liquid touched his tongue. To be quite honest, he hated coffee, being partial to a cup of hot cocoa like his grandmother used to make during the cold winters when he'd visit for the holidays. But, being under so much stress, it wasn't surprising that he'd accidentally pressed the wrong button on the machine, causing it to spew the distasteful drink into his mug.

He leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping on the desk as he awaited the file he'd requested from one of his officers.

"Matsumoto!" he hollered through the open door. "Hurry up! It doesn't take fifteen minutes to find a file on a recent case unless you're _flirting_!" He punctuated the last word with precision, raising his voice to match.

On cue, a red-haired woman darted in, smiling and waving through the door. "Oh, don't be such a stiff, sir," she laughed, dropping the file onto his desk. "You're young! Try and have a little bit of fun."

The young officer grimaced, standing as he glowered at her. "Being young doesn't _always_ equal out to scandalous sex and wild drinking parties, Matsumoto. You'd do well to remember that and _live by it_." His eyes scanned the pages of the file, memorizing each victim's name, as well as every last bit of evidence. Abruptly, he remembered the assignment he'd handed down to the woman, now wondering whether or not she'd completed it. "Did you go to the Kingyoso Winery as I instructed?"

The busty woman smiled down at him, standing comically at attention. "Yes, sir!" she announced with a laugh.

Although he hated doing such a thing, Toshiro stood on the desk so that he was a head above her, staring down with icicles in his gaze. "You're sure?" he inquired, not believing her in the slightest. "Because, if you'll remember, there was an empty bottle of red wine, courtesy of Kingyoso, with Mr. Hamasaki's corpse."

"That's harsh, Captain," she huffed, crossing her arms. "You don't trust me to do my job?"

"That's partly true. I don't trust you to do your job _well_, and without getting stoned!"

In response, Matsumoto darted out into the hall, returning with a rather sorry-looking man behind her. She stood triumphantly before Toshiro's desk, proud to be presenting him with the owner of the Kingyoso Winery himself. The man was wasted out of his mind, leaning on Matsumoto so as to hold himself up. Toshiro shook his head, noting the painfully obvious way she snickered at the man. Clearly, they'd had some kind of "fun" together. In his opinion, the implied was shameful behavior for an officer to engage in, especially when on duty.

He grit his teeth, ushering in a more competent officer, requesting that he remove the now drooling Mr. Kyoraku from his floor. The man did so, closing the door once he'd gotten the winery owner into another officer's arms.

"Matsumoto!" he barked, causing her to jump. "This is unacceptable behavior! I cannot _believe _that you'd break the code just to go lounge about with a philanderer like that! And for what? A few free drinks in a nice hotel? What the hell did he bribe you with?"

She smiled, blowing him a kiss that tipped him off as to the fact that she was still off her rocker. "How rude! He didn't bribe me at all. I won't tell you all of what went on last night, sir, but I _will _say that the sex was magnificent. The wine, however, is something that a good girl should never gossip about."

Toshiro felt a fresh stream of blood drip slowly out of his nose. He was furious, humiliated, and shocked. "You've got it backwards, idiot! You're supposed to tell me about the _wine_, not the sex! And, based on what I'm hearing, you're _not _a 'good girl!'" he shouted, trying to stem the bleeding with a hand. Surely, she'd given him some kind of aneurysm, as he had a headache now. The young captain strode to the door, yanking it open, his face beet red. "Koizumi! Tachibana!"

Almost immediately, two officers in their thirties appeared, standing at attention. "Sir!"

"Tachibana, take her _out of here_, and make sure both she _and _Mr. Kyoraku get home. Just not together," he said, trying to keep a lid on his temper. "Koizumi, go down to the Kingyoso Winery, and do the usual run-down. And _make sure _you speak to Mr. Kyoraku's fiancee. I won't accept any statement in regards to the wine purchased by Mr. Hamasaki unless she's the one giving it."

The man nodded and stepped into the office with Tachibana, aiding his fellow officer in dragging a now giggling Matsumoto out to one of the patrol vehicles, returning only to fetch the winery owner. When they were out of sight, Toshiro marched back into his office and downed an Aspirin, placing his forehead on the edge of the desk.

"By the gods," he muttered. "That woman will kill me before I reach twenty-five..."

**# - # - # - # **

When dawn came, the sky was still gray. It seemed as though the heavens were reluctant to allow this part of the country any peace at all. She sighed, stretching out her arms as her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. The first real day of her vacation, a day where she didn't have to report to work, and she had already made a commitment to return to that godawful place. It was the right thing, watching over this seemingly lonely girl, but she couldn't help feeling disdain in regards to the house's _other _occupant.

Retsu dragged herself out from beneath the blankets, grimacing as her feet touched the cold floor. She'd been at this tutoring thing for over a week now, and had always come home late, well after midnight. The previous night had been particularly bothersome, as she'd felt herself being watched by those brooding eyes as he'd stared at her for well over an hour. It was as if he'd made it his mission to drive her away, as if she were some kind of intruder.

Upon returning home the previous night, she hadn't had nearly enough energy to reach her room, undress, and properly fall asleep in bed. Never had she loved a couch quite so much as she did now. Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Retsu crossed the threshold of her room, taking note of the outfit she'd laid out the morning before. It was a habit of hers, to plan for the next day, and a good one at that, as she didn't have the patience to rummage through her closet.

The shower hissed as she turned the knob, slipping out of the previous day's wear before allowing the heated water to run over her skin. It felt as though just the pleasantness of the moment alone would wipe away all the unwelcome memories of the day before. Another, although mild, confrontation with the most impossible man she'd ever met, accompanied with a rather miserable drive into town, which had been cut short by a flat tire. And, strangely, she still had memories of her first embarrassing meeting with Nemu and her father, whose name she realized she still didn't know.

Not that she really cared in the first place.

She shook her head, allowing herself to rest against the side of the tub as the water rained down. Her eyes began to close again, encasing her in the darkness that seemed to bring an uncanny sense of peace. It was as if she were wrapped tightly in sheets spun of silk and clouds, the sweetest feeling she'd imagined in so long.

The sudden blaring of her phone easily shattered the daydream, bringing Retsu to reach to the vanity, hand closing around the buzzing object, unfolding and pressing it to her ear.

"Hello?"

Her eyes widened at the voice on the other end, staring at the time and realizing that she was a good fifteen minutes late. After assuring Nemu that she'd be right there, the girl cut her off.

"Perhaps we could work outside today? Say, Ueno Park?"

Retsu hurriedly agreed, apologizing for her tardiness. Upon hanging up, she washed her hair and drained the water, drying off with panic in her eyes. She darted out into the room, throwing on a light-colored top and a simple, patterned skirt before grabbing her things and rushing out the door. Fortunately, Ueno Park was only a brisk fifteen minutes away by foot. Rather than riding the elevator down, she chose the stairs, smiling at the fact that there would be no stops on her way down.

Outside, the weather was multiple times better than it had been in the days before. The sky was still gray, but there was far more sunshine than there had been over the last six days, leading her to believe that this day would be far more suitable given the summer season. She crossed several streets, taking in the sights that she'd missed whilst cooped up in her office or checking up on the health of the local children.

As she neared the park, she spotted a small crowd of tiny faces, day care teachers keeping an eye on them. Many of said faces began lighting up as she passed by, hands waving and voices making comments about much fun it was to visit "the doctor." She smiled at this, laughing as she waved back, stepping onto the trail that was littered with cherry blossoms. The trees were in full bloom, ducks swimming in the ponds and arguing over food that children and their parents had thrown to them.

Sitting quietly on the ledge by the duck pond, she busied herself with watching people walk dogs and chase their children, stifling a laugh when a particularly rambunctious little boy ran himself right into the duck pond, intent on trying to catch one. Retsu gasped when someone tapped her shoulder, startling her. She turned to see a bright-looking young man with glasses smiling at her.

"I'm sorry if I scared you," he said, settling down beside her, "but I'm looking for someone." Without waiting for her answer, he pulled his cell phone from his jacket pocket, shifting through several photographs before handing it over. "This girl, have you seen her?"

Retsu's eyes widened, a smile on her face. It seemed that there was something she could hold over a certain someone's head after all. And, given her terribly accurate first impression, not knowing would drive him mad. She shook her head, returning the phone to him.

"Not yet," she replied, watching as one of the ducklings swam in a dizzying circle. "I'm meeting her here, you see."

He smiled, returning the object to his pocket as he leaned back on his hands, a content smile upon his face. "In that case, I'd like to wait here with you. If that's all right."

Retsu nodded, breathing in the fresh morning air. Even at eleven-thirty, it was still crisp and clear, the day-old scent of rain still lingering. She glanced to the sidewalk, noting the puddles that were still lying about, presenting a sort of challenge to the toddlers, clad in colorful raincoats and boots, who ran ahead of their parents, trying to make a bigger splash than anyone else.

She heard her new found companion gasp, causing her to turn and stare inquisitively at him.

"Oh, no," he breathed, crouching down behind her. He looked up with wide, urgent eyes, and whispered, "If anyone asks, you didn't see me," before taking off down the path.

Retsu, tracing his invisible line of sight with a finger, glanced in the direction he'd been staring, abruptly pressing her hands to her face in distress. If there was one thing she hated above all else, it was improper behavior, and the character who fit that profile perfectly, aside from her dear friend, the scoundrel who owned the winery, was already staring at her. Retsu looked back, curious as to whether or not she could find the young man in the crowd. When she saw that he was long gone, she smiled, realizing exactly why he'd split.

Had he been the only one to show, she wouldn't have thought twice about leaving, but her obvious disdain for him would have shone through, bringing that maddening smirk to life again. She decided to ignore him, her thoughts now focused on the smiling girl who had made her way through the crowd.

Nemu seemed guarded, her eyes darting around the park, tipping Retsu off to the fact that she was looking for the young man with the glasses.

"Don't worry. I won't say anything," she said, subtly motioning in the direction he'd gone. "You should hurry. He's looking for you."

Her smile widened, glancing over her shoulder almost fearfully. It was then that Retsu had decided to keep the "problem child" busy. Amidst all the chaos, she'd lost sight of him, forced to push blindly through the crowd, silently hoping that he hadn't picked up on Nemu's plan to meet up with her "friend." Upon reaching the street, Retsu had a good mind to give up and just return to her seat by the pond where she could easily monitor the incoming traffic on this side of the park.

Retsu turned, murmuring quietly to herself as she found a seat on an empty bench. If this was his idea of a fun, trying to goad her into a childish game of hide-and-seek, she wanted no part of it. She pulled a paperback book from her purse, perfectly content with reading until her student had returned from spending time with the mysterious, yet sweet, young man. In a matter of minutes, several pages were turned, sweeping her back into the story that had sat, long-forgotten, on her shelf for so many days.

There was a light tap on her shoulder, to which she responded by turning to look, only to find that no one was there. A joke played by some passing child, she assumed, returning to the novel she'd set down on her lap. Only, when she looked back, the book was gone, held well out of her reach by the detestable bastard himself. She scowled, reaching over to try and steal it back, willing herself to ignore the glee in his eyes.

"Why do you insist on doing this to me?" she demanded. "I'm working to help your daughter in ways that you can't, and you seem to hate me for it."

"You're interesting," he replied, handing the book to her with an indifferent look. "That's all."

No matter how she looked at it, Retsu just didn't get it. She was interesting, so it gave him the license to continuously make her life more difficult? Oh, yes, that was beautiful logic for a doctor. Once the book was pressed back into her purse, Retsu slung the strap over her right arm, hoping that it would be too much of a stretch for him to reach.

"I don't think I caught your name." It was strange, how casual she sounded, despite the fact that it was forced. She really had no interest in who he was, or what specific interest she held for him, but she didn't want him to end up encroaching on Nemu's time alone with the young man whom Retsu assumed to be her boyfriend.

He shrugged, biting down on a cigarette as he closed his eyes. "That's because I never gave it," he retorted.

She was taken aback by this behavior, even after having contributed it to some deep-seated form of depression or, perhaps, abandonment. Thinking on it more seriously, he didn't seem the type to be shaken in the way that Nemu had expressed days before. In fact, he seemed quite content with things as they were, having made no mention as to the Irooni Killer. He hadn't even reacted when she'd accidentally brought up the case the day before. From what she'd gathered, he was reserved, passive to a fault, emotionless.

"Mayuri Kurotsuchi," she heard him mutter, almost distastefully. "And I already know who you are."

"I'm sorry," she said suddenly, earning a sideways glance. "I was horrid the other night."

He shrugged, leaning back against the bench. "She told you," he muttered around the cigarette.

As they had on the night of their first meeting her eyes widened significantly as she vigorously shook her head. "How could you know about that? You were... It was... I... There's no way for you to know what we talked about!"

She was flustered now, having stood up so as to pace back and forth, creating small, dizzying shapes as she stared at the ground. There was no possible way for him to have known _anything _about what had been discussed, as he'd been miles away toying with a corpse.

"I didn't have to be there to know. _You _just told me."

Retsu opened her mouth to shoot off yet another comment, but was suddenly interrupted by a solid scream that came from behind her. Completely forgetting her conversation, she followed the sound, pushing through the crowd that had gathered by the pond. As more people flocked to the scene, the birds could be seen flying away, squawking as if giving off some kind of awkward alarm. Upon reaching the center of the circle, she nearly felt her heart drop out of shock, as she was staring at a bleeding corpse of a young woman with a character carved into her hand.

"Red," she heard someone say, commenting on the character and the color of dress the woman was wearing.

Reading about murders in the paper was one thing, but being on the scene was something else entirely. It was like some kind of twisted horror film, the scene being etched into her skill as if with the point of a knife. Sirens were heard in the background as she felt herself fall back on her rump, breath caught in her throat as if she were drowning. The police parted the crowd with ease, making way for the paramedics who stood by as the officers began clearing the area.

One officer, a middle-aged man with light-colored hair, had taken Retsu by the arm, trying to pull her to her feet. But she was frozen to the spot, still staring in awe at the unmoving body.

"Retsu!" She turned her head slowly, emotionless as Toshiro called the man down, rushing to her side. He took her by the shoulders, shaking her gently so as to bring her to her senses. His eyes were worried, almost tearing up as he pulled her aside. "Are you all right?"

She nodded slowly, taking in breath as she felt herself being lifted to her feet. Her eyes were still on Toshiro, his mouth open slightly as he stared to Retsu's right. At that moment, she felt compelled to turn as well, mildly surprised to see that Mayuri had her by the arm, his eyes glued to the scene.

This, she imagined, must have been hell for him.

* * *

><p>It's different, working with AU. You have to include all the little details, as you're creating a scenario that the readers aren't entirely familiar with.<p> 


	4. Wraiths Without Hearts

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 4: **Wraiths Without Hearts

* * *

><p>"Cyanide poisoning."<p>

The officer raised an eyebrow, obviously doubting the statement. He was on the lighter end of the spectrum, the respectful type who, on occasion, refused to disagree for the sake of avoiding a heated dispute. As if it really made any difference to someone who could see through the frosted glass. As far as gathering evidence went, it seemed that age wasn't a contributing factor, as the young captain had, time and again, proven himself capable of tearing down the minor amusements that Mayuri indulged in.

Just like now.

The same expression was on the boy's face as he waved his hand, silently insisting that he wasn't satisfied with two simple words.

"Are you implying that there was cyanide in her system?" he inquired, disinterested in playing games. His eyes told that he'd chalked the situation up to murder from the get-go.

Mayuri fought of the desire to roll his eyes at the boy. If one knew the answer, then there was no reason for one to ask the question. But such a concept didn't apply to the Force, especially to someone with such an obvious sense of duty to the facts. A captain he may have been, but he was naïve in more ways than Mayuri could count. Still, he was a smart boy, reading into Mayuri's purposeful lack of a thorough explanation.

"Not nearly enough to kill her. Likely put into her mouth so as to throw off your precious investigation." He turned around, motioning towards the corpse. "Multiple stab wounds to the chest and throat, inflicted by nothing less than a serrated knife, but no sign of prints or foreign clothing fiber." A pause. "A clean kill."

Captain Hitsugaya tapped his foot on the floor impatiently. "I can see that," he said, pen hovering above the clipboard in his hands, "but what was the _cause of death_? As you well know, it's crucial to the case. Perhaps... bleeding, strangulation, maybe _lupus_?"

With that last suggestion, Mayuri knew the boy was just being stupid.

"Oh, quit being such an ass, and give him an answer already."

He cringed, willing himself not to move as the grand high bitch herself sauntered in, behaving like a queen. She slipped in front of him, staring at the corpse as she handled it with gloved hands, behaving as if _she_ were the one the captain was speaking to all along. If she were the one lying on the table, he'd have no reason to avoid distorting her features beyond recognition. A rather dark thought, given the fact that she was the one in charge, but he didn't care.

"Asphyxiation," he said, scowling at her. "Her throat was cut, and she suffocated. Now that your impossibly irritating desire to interfere in my affairs has been sated, you can leave."

The woman turned, peeling the gloves off her hands before grabbing him by the lapels of his shirt. "You fail to remember who's in charge," she hissed, eyes narrowing to slits. "Just keep it up. Keep making your smartass comments, and we'll see just how long it takes before you're the one in cold storage."

"At least you'll be in a prison cell," he muttered, waiting until she'd walked out of the room.

By the gods, she was more irritating than anyone else he'd ever had the displeasure of associating with. Even the damned tutor, the most interesting case of a bleeding heart he'd seen yet, wasn't nearly as high-strung and self-righteous as the bitch who paraded herself around in desperation. Sadly, such unpleasantness was something that had to be endured in this profession. Mayuri had much preferred the previous director, despite him being a prideful bastard with a nasty chip on his shoulder.

The only sound in the room was the scratching of the pen on paper as the young captain recorded the necessary information, having turned the photographs of the woman over so as to inscribe some notes on the back. He shook his head, slipping the clipboard under his arm.

Another officer, a few years ahead of the captain, stood at attention in the doorway. "You requested my presence, Captain?"

"Yes," the youth nodded, handing his subordinate a second file he'd kept beneath the one on the Irooni Killings. "Take two units with with you, _excluding Matsumoto_, and question the head of the Yakusoku Gang. The style of killing in this instance, as well as the use of cyanide, is a practice that's favored by that bastard. Go quickly. Intelligence reports that he's operating out of a warehouse on the wharf tonight. Make sure you scope out the area for illegal substances as well. We may be able to kill two birds with one stone."

The officer nodded, accepting the file as he turned on his heel, striding out of the room as he pulled a radio from his belt.

"A shame, really," the captain said, looking sadly at the woman's remains, "that someone could steal lives so easily. And with no regret, to boot."

Mayuri leaned silently against the back wall and nodded in agreement.

**# - # - # - # **

"Hello, my dear!"

Retsu smiled, shaking her head as she placed the glass on the table beside the newspaper. It was nice to see another friendly face, as she'd been distressed all the night before. She'd sat up half the night, frightened of the impending doom that threatened to strike anyone at any given moment. Thinking back, it certainly seemed that the weather _had _been predicting the return of the shameless killer. Heavy rains, mild floods, fires caused by lighting touching the earth. To the superstitious, she was sure that said events were an omen of sorts, spelling out despair and suffering to the city and its inhabitants.

More and more, these assumptions were starting to sound very accurate.

"Shunsui, please. You don't need to shout."

The man, dressed in rather expensive-looking European wear, seated himself beside her, smiling cheerily at Nemu as she continued copying down chemical formulas. "And who, may I ask, is this lovely little sparrow?"

Retsu rolled her eyes, slapping his arm with a condescending look. "My student is not part of your 'hunting club,'" she said, walking around the table so as to sit between the two. "Besides, you have Nanao to worry about."

His grin widened, calling to one of his waiters for a bottle of the finest champagne. "I'll tell you, Retsu, once you've seen the beauties that France has to offer, you realize that life is like a glass of fresh red wine. If you stick to one brand, you'll never be able to experience the sensation of foreign tastes dancing across your tongue."

Nine months earlier, Shunsui had taken a trip to France so as to further finance his business, taking Nanao along to see the sights. Of course, the man had greatly neglected his duties, touring the country in hopes of finding some beautiful harpy whom he could make an impression on. Truth be told, he'd succeeded, extending the "business trip" to three weeks, and getting very little work done.

Without Nanao, who had been his hired assistant at the time, he wouldn't have gotten the funding that had turned Kingyoso into a winery in its own right. Not to mention the fine Italian dining that the business had started within the last six weeks.

Retsu remembered the couple's return well. She had gone to the airport to pick them up, only to see Nanao run out the doors in tears, relaying the entire situation, minus several unpleasant details.

Five months later, he'd still had the gall to propose.

"That may be, but you've made a commitment." She reached over, grabbing his left hand as she pointed to the ring. "You're engaged, Shunsui. Start acting like it, and quit fooling around. I can guarantee you that Nanao doesn't appreciate it."

"Ah, Retsu. If you were a little more liberal, then perhaps we could have something beautiful," he laughed, accepting the bottle from the young man.

The doctor shook her head, gathering up her things and leaving a tip on the table as she motioned for Nemu to follow. "Oh, I think not," she replied coolly, staring at him with disdain. "I'll be perfectly frank with you, Shunsui. I'm appalled that you'd so much as insinuate such a thing. And, to be honest, Nanao's better off without you."

**# - # - # - # **

"No comment," a muscular man with dark glasses said, pushing the officer away with a hand. "Now leave."

The captain, who had decided to go along after all, grimaced, gritting his teeth in frustration. He and his men had only just arrived and asked the guard a simple question, and already they were being treated like the enemy. Being part of the Force, that kind of mentality was to be expected. For the last few years, the police in Tokyo had been treated like scum by criminals and civilians alike. He supposed that it didn't help that the Irooni Killer had been wandering around, a free man, for seven years.

Toshiro stepped forward, waving the slightly older man, a new-recruit by the name of Hisagi, back. He had doubts that this fierce-looking man before them would be at all inclined to listen to him, a mere pup by most standards, but his duty insisted he try. The young captain walked right up to the man, noting how he tilted his head down with a raised eyebrow.

"I'm Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya of the Tokyo Police Force," he said firmly, showing the man his badge. "Regardless of any order you've received from your boss, you are required by law to allow our passage." He flashed the man the warrant that gave them access to the wharf, eyes unbending. "Now, stand aside."

There was a laugh that came from behind the burly character as he stepped aside, making way for a much taller, and angrier-looking man with a scar running down the left side of his face beneath the eye patch he sported. He was clad in rather roughed-up clothing, a golden pendant around his neck and a stained white bandanna on his right arm. No doubt colored with the blood of his enemies. There was an old blade strapped to his back, his hand closed around the hilt as he seemed to consider making a move.

Without looking back, Toshiro knew that his men were wide-eyed, hands placed on their guns.

"At ease!" he hissed, waving them down with a stern look. "Don't mess this up."

The man before him scoffed, towering over the captain as he grinned, plucking the warrant from the youth's hand. "A warrant, eh?" he laughed, crumpling up the paper. "The hell makes ya think yer gettin' in here with that?"

Toshiro scowled, retrieving the document from the ground. He turned, waving down his men again, spotting a petite girl standing just to the right of the patrol car. There was dirt on her face, and perhaps some blood, her eyes wide and quiet as she watched them in silence. Her clothing was ragged, leading the captain to believe that she was an orphan. He turned his back on her, moving his head in a manner that silently demanded his men keep an eye on her.

"It's the law," he replied coolly, sporting a small smirk as he tucked the paper back into his pocket. "But you think you're above that, don't you, Zaraki?"

The man laughed again, drawing his blade and crouching down so that he was at eye-level with the captain. "Damn right."

Toshiro flinched, a mild pain having manifested on the left side of his face. His hand reached up, wiping away the smear of blood. There was a loud sound from behind as one of Zaraki's men struck the nearest patrol vehicle with a crowbar, smashing one of the windows.

"The hell's this all about?" the man growled as Toshiro ushered his men into formation.

"Play any games lately?" the captain shot back, having drawn his gun. "We found _your_ mark on a murder victim. Do cyanide and carving knives sound familiar?" His eyes moved, motioning to the hands of some of the gang members who held serrated blades.

Zaraki waved a hand, causing the men to pull back. "How do ya know it was _my _mark?"

"Who else uses cyanide to ensure that the job is done? We've proved it the past, in case you memory's failed, and you're the only one sadistic enough to pull that off. Admit it. This kind of thing isn't beyond you at all."

"Still workin' on that damned Irooni case, eh? What a fuckin' pain. But I'll tell ya, Shorty, there ain't a man in here who pulls a job without my order."

Toshiro shrugged, weapon still at the ready. "_It's the law_," he repeated. "_Open the gate._"

Another scoff as the man turned his back on Toshiro, barking orders to several of his lackeys. "I like you, kid," he said, flashing the captain a grin as the tiny girl climbed up onto his shoulder. "Search the damned place. See if I give a flyin' fuck. Just remember to keep yer grubby hands off the shipments."

He knew that going against his orders from the chief would cost him, but it seemed that this was really the only way to get into the Yakusoku Gang's territory, so he wasn't going to risk it. Shaking his head, Toshiro smiled widely, ushering his men through the gate. "Don't count on it, Zaraki. You're in no way allotted any negotiation room. The law is set in stone."

A loud laugh escaped the larger man, a sadistic grin settling into his weathered face as he settled himself onto one of the wooden crates. "Yer a tough little bastard. I like that."


	5. Fragile As They Fall

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 5: **Fragile As They Fall

* * *

><p>He'd said that he didn't like hiding, even if it was the only way for them to see each other. It felt dishonest, he'd said, regardless of the fact that "the enemy," one of his favorite phrases, would pull them apart upon finding out. Being a very honest person, he wouldn't deny in the slightest that he was still upset over the event that had happened years back. It was a sad story, one that went along the lines of his grandfather having been unrecognizable after his autopsy.<p>

As the memory still seemed to antagonize him, she wasn't surprised that he preferred to keep it to himself.

There were two big factors that had lead to their secret meetings, well out of the way of both their fathers. His, being a stuffed shirt of sorts, was strongly against the idea of his son being involved with anyone not in their social standing. Hers was just shameless. She'd admit that much. As such, they'd mutually agreed to pretend the other didn't exist while at home, only to spend as much time as possible with one another when out of the house.

"Damn," Uryu muttered darkly, staring solemnly at the front page of the paper. "It's astounding what people will do for their own entertainment."

Not astounding, really. She'd heard of all kinds of killing sprees, many far worse than this. But the Irooni Killer was actually _in_ the city, having run free for nearly a decade. Living with that kind of heavy atmosphere around was quite the killjoy. On the streets, it seemed that people were always looking over their shoulders. They were guarded, not daring to even trust their closest friends.

It was logical, suspecting everyone of being responsible, as the killer wasn't any different from anyone else. Whoever this person was, the only tip as to their identity was the color of clothing that worn by both them and the victim. A "colorful demon," just as the name implied. One who excelled at blending in and behaving as if they were just another everyday person. The thought alone was enough to chill her.

It brought back memories, or lack thereof, regarding her mother's death. She'd worn a green dress that day, patterned with leaves or possibly paisleys. Nemu couldn't quite remember which. But it had been a beautiful piece of her mother's wardrobe that she'd loved to play in as a child. Her mother had been out for most of the day, running errands after Nemu had been dropped off at school.

Her class had been assigned to art that day, where the quiet ten-year-old had insisted upon using as much green paint as she could get her hands on. It had come out a mess, despite matching her mother's dress: A little green dog in a wide yard with a tree. When the car had pulled up to the curb that afternoon, she had been wide-eyed, holding the painting with care so as to avoid crumpling it up. Her mother had laughed, pulling over just so she could praise her about a job well done.

The two of them had eaten dinner alone, her father having been engrossed in some project that her mother had said was "not quite appropriate for sweet little girls." She had fallen asleep in front of the television that night, oblivious to the fact that her mother had slipped out to finish one of the errands she'd forgotten. When Nemu had awakened, the car was out in the driveway, the lights turned on and the doors open.

Curious and excited, she'd darted outside, bringing with her the blanket that they shared for their time together, eager to be tucked into bed and told the usual story that her mother would make up on the spot. It wasn't a sight she had wanted to remember. A scene reminiscent of the horror movies that her friends would brag about seeing with their older siblings. She had run back inside, crying as she pushed her father, who had finally finished his work, out the door, begging him to "make Mommy wake up."

When the police had arrived, Nemu had only cried harder. Yellow tape had been strewn everywhere, and she'd curled herself up on the couch, not wanting to understand what "she's not coming back" meant.

"Are you all right?"

Uryu's hand was on her arm, his eyes sad. Her reflection in his glasses was a perfect match to her feelings. Tired and mournful. The paper was on the ground now, the headline hidden beneath his shoe. That tiny detail made things better somehow, as if refusing to look at the killer's nickname made all the nightmares go away. He slipped his arm around her shoulders, quiet as they sat within the busy shop, everything on mute, save for the sound of their breathing.

She allowed herself to nod, a lie by any stretch of the imagination. There was no "all right." There wasn't even a day that passed where she didn't hear the word "killer." It was the highlight of the city's news, even having seeped its way into the smaller outlying towns and prefectures. Every soul in the nation knew that the body count had risen to fifteen, even after a seven-year period of peace.

"I'd like to go home now," she said, gathering her things. "There, at least, I don't have to listen to people talk about this."

His gaze fell to the paper, reaching down so as to fold it up and toss it in the nearest trash can. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up."

**# - # - # - # **

Her face was the most welcome thing he'd seen in days, despite his success at having searched the Yakusoku Gang's hideout on the wharf. She had brought him lunch, having skipped out of her math class so as to spend time with him. Had Toshiro not been so pleased to see her, he would have thanked her for the thought before asking her to go back and take her test or whatever it was she was missing out on.

"How's your brother?" he said, putting a spoonful of potato salad into his mouth.

Karin laughed, smiling as she pulled a pair of sodas out of her lunch pail. "He's fine. Playing soccer, working at that sushi restaurant down the street from our house. The usual, really."

Toshiro grinned, standing so as to offer her his chair. "I meant, is he still upset that I graduated three years before him? We _were_ in the same class all through middle school, you know."

"Oh, _that_." She was joking now, pretending to have completely forgotten that fact entirely. "He doesn't talk about it nearly as much as he used to, but you know Ichigo. He can't stand it when someone one-ups him. Have you heard how he rants when Uryu Ishida outdoes him in gym?"

"I don't think anyone could forget that." A motion blur caught his eye, causing Toshiro to turn towards the door with a scowl. He'd seen the blue eyes and bit of red hair peering into the room, observing his time alone with Karin. He tapped his fingers on the desk, and muttered, "What are you _doing_, Matsumoto?"

The woman popped her head through the doorway again, grinning widely. "Oh, Captain!" she chirped, stepping into the room. "I didn't even know you were here. Back from lunch already?"

"I'm having lunch _now_, idiot," he replied, chewing on a piece of chicken. "Now that that's settled, why don't you go file the paperwork I told you about _three days ago_?"

There was an awkward pause as the woman fled the room, the sound of her rushed footsteps bringing laughter into the air. Minutes passed with a nice exchange between the youths, only to be interrupted again by a much more unpleasant tune. Struggling could be heard out in the hallway, bringing Toshiro to hop off his desk with an inquisitive look, marching to the door.

There was a scuffle on the floor, two of his officers heavily engaged in pinning down a rather angry looking gentleman in a dark jacket. He certainly didn't look it, but he was much more fit than either of the men who pushed him against the wall, as he'd put up quite the fight. The smaller of the uniformed men pushed him forward, earning a dirty curse and a nasty wad of spit in his eye.

"All right, that's enough!" Toshiro barked, not wanting to referee a brawl. "What's going on here?"

The officer who'd been spat on stepped forward, saluting the captain with a grimace. "We were on patrol around the Yamazaki Theatre, sir, when we spotted this fellow," he pushed the cuffed man forward, giving him a good kick in the ass, "lingering in an alleyway on the building's northeastern side."

Toshiro turned to stare at the man they'd brought in, immediately recognizing him as one of the Yakusoku Gang. "I know you," he said sourly. "You're Madarame, the trigger-happy scoundrel I arrested last month."

"Before yer promotion. Yeah, even I heard about that shit." the man spat, a sly grin on his face. "Not much of an accomplishment, if ya ask me. Besides, what kind of man uses the word 'scoundrel?' Sounds like somethin' a fuckin' pansy would say."

The captain clapped him on the shoulder, pushing him into sitting on one of the benches. "Well, no one asked," he smiled, signaling for Karin to stay in his office. "Now then, just what were you doing skulking around an alley in the middle of such a fine day? A little too early for drug-trafficking, don't you think?"

Madarame snorted, spitting a yellow-green mixture on the floor. "I was lookin' fer the bastard what owes the boss a load. Started trackin' the fucker last night, but I lost 'im when he jumped through traffic. Nearly got myself killed tryin' to follow 'im. I've seen 'im stashin' his pickups 'round there, so I thought I'd take back what's ours. That's when I found 'im, buried 'neath the stash in the hole in the wall. Bloody 'n cut up, he was. Had 'black' carved into his forehead."

"Great." Toshiro pressed a hand to his forehead, hurrying back into his office. He grabbed the phone, his knuckles turning white from the pressure as he punched in a number. "Get K9 units down to the alleyway on the northeastern side of the Yamazaki Theatre. We've got another killing."

Karin's eyes were wide as he turned, offering her a sorry smile.

"It's okay," she said, grabbing her bag. "You're busy, being in charge. I understand." She placed a kiss on his cheek before stepping out into the hall. "Maybe we can do something this weekend. Does dinner and a dance sound good? I promise, I _won't _let my brother follow us this time."

Toshiro nodded, laughing in spite of the grim situation. "Yes," he chuckled. "I'd like that."

**# - # - # - # **

"What are you doing back so soon? It's not even midnight."

Mayuri glanced over his shoulder, immune to the woman's incredulous expression. She wasn't supposed to be here, but upstairs, doing whatever it was that women did when they fraternized with one another. "It's strange," he said, trying to appear thoughtful. "But I'm having some trouble remembering _why _that's your business."

"Oh, don't be a child. It was just a question."

It was disappointing to watch something fail, even if it was only a comment that had been designed to send away the person on the receiving end. Had he not known better, he would have said that she'd expected him to say something like that, just so she could continue to interfere where she wasn't needed. Even three days after the most recent event, Mayuri still hadn't finished the godawful report on the corpse that the director had requested for both the hospital records and the police. He only gave a damn because the authorities were involved. If it had been just her, he'd have blown it off without a second thought.

He sighed, pushing his sleeves up further. She was still standing there, eyes wandering across the shelves as if she'd never seen research material in her life. It probably didn't help that the majority of said materials had a number of rather grim titles, such as "Essentials of Autopsy Practice" and "Autopsy of a Suicidal Mind."

Believably disturbing for someone incapable of understanding his thought process.

"If you must know, I never left. And there's no law against independent research."

Retsu grimaced, fingers digging into her arms as she took a step back. "When it's this in-depth," she said, nodding towards the corpse, "then there _should _be one. I can't believe you actually built a lab in your basement so you could keep them in your house. Talk about frightening."

The gloves were easily disposed before he turned to face her, leaning back on the table just to watch her flinch. "You're quite the bother. How the _hell _did you become a doctor in the first place?"

"Pediatrics," she replied, far too happily. "Now, I'm curious... Do you _always_ act this way, rude and insouciant, or is it some special treatment reserved for the people you just can't stand?"

He scoffed, ignoring the obvious glow in her eyes as blood began dripping to the floor. She was _trying _to get him worked up. There were only two ways she could have picked up his list of annoyances. The first, the more unlikely of the two, being that she'd observed and actually _learned _something. The second... Nemu talked to much.

Mayuri stared down at the forms on the table, scribbling various notes without even looking up."You're not quite as special as you think."

Instead of walking out as he'd hoped, Retsu stepped forward, invading much-needed personal space as she seemed to mirror her actions of that first night. Mayuri felt himself cringe as she reached out, fingers brushing his hair to the side.

"To the left," she said. "You should wear it that way."

"This is why no one likes Pediatricians," he said, swatting her hand away. "They think that they're real doctors, and that they know everything."

Retsu smiled smugly, pretending to be insulted. "I'll have you know, my patients like me just fine."

He had half a mind to flash her the photos of the most recent victim he'd picked up from the police earlier that evening. To his chagrin, the pint-sized captain had called in, requesting that Mayuri show up on the scene. He'd reluctantly cooperated, assessing the situation before leaving the police with the same old story for the twelfth time in six weeks: _Murder._

Returning to the moment, Mayuri made a face, leaning over to stand at eye-level with her. "They're _five_."

There was a loud sound and a scream from the floor above, sending Retsu darting back up the stairs as Mayuri shrugged it off. For all he knew, there was a spider on the wall. Again. Almost as soon as the noise had stopped, it started again, making him want to shout in frustration. It seemed that every time something was going well, there was some kind of distraction present to halt all progress and relevant thought.

"Get up here!" Retsu shouted down the stairs.

Shoving the cadaver into the storage unit, he took the stairs two at a time, eager to get this mess settled so he could return to gluing the peaceful silence back together. The lights were off, no surprise given the late hour, but the two could be seen in the foyer, seeming to stare into the front room.

Mayuri stepped around them, willing himself to keep his mouth shut and ignore Nemu's whimpering as she pointed to the window. Blood was strewn across the glass from the outside, an arm visible through the brush. There was a tattoo on his wrist, tipping Mayuri off to the man's identity immediately. He was an officer serving under the boy genius, the very same smartass who'd mouthed off a few hours earlier. Aside from the ink, there was only one particularly crucial factor: The phrase "for good measure" had been burned into the man's flesh.


	6. Just Tell Me What To Feel

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 6: **Just Tell Me What To Feel

* * *

><p>Nagakawa, Kiyomizu, and Akiharabara. He'd taken out a person from each of these districts with a precision that gave him chills. It would be one thing if he were operating alone rather than taking orders from someone in shadow, as he would have been caught immediately. Lucky for him, that wasn't the case here.<p>

When the killings had started seven years before, Futatsu Ryogawa had been just as confused as everyone else. The superstitious had been raving about the unknown, a demon in human flesh wandering around to feed. The papers, meanwhile, had correctly attributed it all to spontaneous murder. Much like everyone else, he had lived in fear of both the killer _and _the gang he'd borrowed money from. Not a day had gone by wherein Futatsu hadn't suspected anyone.

He'd been genuinely shocked when, nine weeks earlier, a rather shady character had approached him at the Kanamara Festival, offering him a way out of his debt. At first, Futatsu had been wary, turning down the offer as he'd believed this person to be a hit-man for the gang who was after him. But he'd been desperate, remembering the hell he'd have to pay if the gang caught up with him, thus accepting the most unorthodox proposal he'd ever heard.

Act as an agent against a few designated souls.

When Futatsu had committed his first murder in Ueno Park, that of beautiful dental assistant Hana Yuwaku, he'd thought for sure that the police would catch him. He'd been in the crowd, watching as they'd collected the evidence. Fortunately, he'd swapped out his shoes for a temporary pair of imported Italian loafers, two sizes too big to throw off the cops. They had been purchased and returned to the store by a third party whom Futatsu had met on the street while "in a hurry" to get to an appointment.

The woman hadn't even seen him coming. She'd been focused on her cell phone, seated by some thick bushes which he'd crept into and used for cover before taking out her throat from behind. As instructed, he'd used gloves and slipped a few drops of cyanide into her mouth before creeping off.

If the stabbing didn't finish her, the drug would.

From what he'd heard after the police had collected the body, thanks to an inside source, they hadn't found so much as trace of his DNA or clothing fibers. His connection, whoever the hell it was, was certainly holding true to their word, taking care so as to remove anything Futatsu had left behind.

It would be impossible for him to be caught with this person pulling the strings.

Amazingly, the one who had unknowingly assisted him in the first murder was the man whom he'd been instructed to take out next. Ryoken Yoruno, a gang member of one of the Yakusoku's rivals. It had been another simple killing. Futatsu, being skilled at throwing knives, had easily taken out Yoruno from across the street, slipping into the alleyway to leave the mark in his forehead before kicking him beneath his drug stash in the wall of a building.

He'd split the scene just before Yoruno had been found by a Yakusoku.

The murder of Shinsei Hono, an officer under the prodigy police captain, had been a message to the Force itself. The two had met, "coincidentally," at a bar where the man in uniform had been unwinding before heading home for the night. It had been quite the lucky break that he'd had a problem with alcohol in the past, as Futatsu had been able to get him smashed before offering to "drive him home." Hono had accepted the offer, having been too out of it to notice that Futatsu had put a sheet of painting plastic over the seats before loading the man into his car.

He'd then driven to Karakura Town, using the same shoe-and-glove routine to dump the man in the yard of a specific residence before bludgeoning him with an axe. "For good measure" had been burned into the officer's arm as instructed before he'd darted off to accordingly burn the plastic, shoes, and gloves. The axe had been left behind.

As promised, he'd been paid the day after Hono's murder. One could get used to sixty-thousand U.S. dollars per killing.

But the police were checking everything, and Futatsu was beginning to feel that they were watching him closely. He'd had a record to begin with, having attempted to knock off a sushi shop to pay another debt six months earlier. But, seeing how the police hadn't come after him, the man had believed himself to be safe.

It was dark out now, the wind hissing through the streets. It was godawful, the weather, his hands shoved into his pockets as he meandered through downtown. He had spent the night drinking, wondering if, and when, he'd ever hear from his "employer" again.

It was an awkward feeling, watching the ground grow closer by the second. He felt suspended, inanimate, trapped in some perverted vortex. It was as if he wasn't even falling, let alone feeling the burn. A dull ache, the kind one might suspect as indigestion or heart burn, was spreading, almost as if a glass of hot water had been poured down his shirt.

There was no surprise when his "friend" from the festival crept into his field of vision. He knew what was happening, how the business went. "Kill or be killed," as they saying went. And Futatsu certainly fell under the latter part of that statement. A foolish risk to take, murdering people for money, but the deed was done. It was strange for him, the pawn, to be seeing the killer watching him die.

There was no emotion at all. Remorse, pleasure, nothing. All traces had fled, leaving him staring at a blank slate as he slipped away, scraping the surface.

From the beginning, he, Futatsu Ryogawa had been nothing but disposable.


	7. Arrogance Suits You

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 7: **Arrogance Suits You

* * *

><p>Going home hadn't even been an option on the night of the murder, and Retsu hadn't even thought of it until <em>after <em>she'd called the police. They'd come with several cars, each officer prepared to fire as they scoped out the neighborhood. People had been dragged out of their houses in the middle of the night as possible witnesses, holding robes and blankets over their heads as the sky began to roar. A tent had been pitched over the crime scene by the forensic investigators so as to save the evidence before the rain started pouring down in buckets.

Statements were recorded and photographs taken, colored lights flashing across the streets and windows as dogs began howling, attributing to the noise of the crowd. She remembered standing idly by as the body was loaded onto a stretcher by the paramedics, the man having been declared dead. There had been sobbing children in their pajamas, awakened by the sirens, standing with their parents on the streets. Many of the older ones asking if it was safe to go back to sleep.

After that, there was nothing. Just a big blank after she'd given the police her statement.

She hadn't been permitted to leave until well after four in the morning, which had likely attributed to the several hours of empty space in her memory. The rest of that night, during which she'd gotten little sleep, and the whole week that had followed, had both been horrid. For the following seven days, there had been no time for socializing of any sort. She'd been forced to cancel numerous plans that had been made, working overtime so as to aid the ER doctors again with the victims who had been caught in a collapsing building on the East side of the city.

Little sleep, shot nerves, and no alone time were what made all of this miserable. She hated this helpless feeling, wondering where and when the next murder victim would appear. Truthfully, it sounded very much like a murder mystery she'd read some time ago, wherein the killer tried to off himself at the end, only to be caught by the dutiful FBI agent who had been pursuing him for weeks. With that in mind, Retsu could only hope that this case would end that way.

It was a late Sunday afternoon when she'd stopped by Kingyoso again, requesting to see Nanao so as to check up on her. In comparison to Shunsui's sorry face, she looked well, smacking him over the head with a stack of menus as she demanded that he behave like an adult. He'd apologized constantly, insisting that his behavior had been nothing short of a joke.

Nanao hadn't liked that at all.

Shusui's comment had earned him another smack and a pitcher of ice water poured over his head in front of employee and customer alike. Laughter had burst throughout the restaurant, as Nanao had turned her back on him, handing the empty pitcher to the waiter she'd taken it from, explaining to Retsu that this wasn't a good time, and that she'd call her within the next day or so to fill her in.

She didn't need to be told, as it was no hard task to guess. Shunsui had likely been out on the town, playing "games," drinking to his heart's content, and not giving a damn as to the worried woman who had devoted her life to him. As she headed down the street, the sun settling behind the still dark clouds, Retsu had smiled at the idea of Nanao trying to gauge out her fiancee's eyes with her glasses.

Now, she was debating with herself about whether she should go home or check up on her student's progress. In eight weeks, Nemu's marks had jumped significantly, a sign that she was approaching a point where she didn't need anymore help. But Retsu felt uncomfortable with the idea of leaving her alone, especially with what had happened the week before. That, and her father didn't exactly pay attention to details outside of his work.

Her eyes widened as she suddenly found herself caught out in the rain, standing mere feet away from the crime scene. It was genuine evil, what this person was doing. The patterns were erratic and crude, but well-planned. She didn't like admitting that fact, as it felt very much like she was praising this unknown murderer. A master thief with a thirst for far more than glittering gold. It was the liquor of life he was after.

She slipped inside, shaking the water off her coat. There was a resounding crash from outside when the door closed, a wild streak of light coming down in the distance. The lights flickered and died out, an eerie darkness falling over her as the rest of the electricity in the area died as well. Fortunately, she knew the place inside out, having spent far too much time here, which made navigating the place an easy task.

To her great disappointment.

It seemed that nobody was home, as there wasn't so much as a voice echoing off the walls. A chill shot through her, seeming to come from the hallway that sat to the north of the front room. From the couch, she'd always been able to see that there was a door in that direction, frosted glass having been laid into it. But she'd never dared to open it. Prying just didn't seem right. But now, she was only looking to see if she were alone.

Retsu crept across the floor, willing herself not to look out the window. Although the scarring scene was long gone, she could still see it whenever she blinked. It was even more vibrant being back here again, closer to where one man had taken his final breath. Peering around the corner, she saw that said door was open, the window on the far wall having been broken, letting the wind whistle through the house.

She detested how this place made her feel. Like an intruder, as if she had no business being here, despite the fact that she'd been hired to teach. But, the more she came and went, the more Retsu felt that she had another motive. Some quiet agenda that had crept through the crevasses of her mind, planting itself and waiting until the last moment to spring and make itself known. There was little light from outside, as the clouds had dominated the sky entirely. Only little flashes of lightning illuminated the room for a few fleeting seconds.

"What the hell are you doing?"

Retsu felt herself jump, heart pounding as she turned around and nearly gave Mayuri a smack for scaring the hell out of her. He was seated in a chair by the door, not even looking at her. Clearly, the floor was _much _more interesting. She leaned back against the desk in the middle of the room, shifting uneasily. It was dark, and she'd just been scared half to death by a man she barely knew.

_Nothing _weird about that.

"The power died," she said, failing to process the thought before she mentioned it. He was looking at her as if she were completely stupid, having brought the obvious to his attention. "Where's Nemu?"

Mayuri groaned, reaching down to grab the amber-colored bottle on the floor. "_Out_," he said sourly. "With that filthy little bastard."

She was taken slightly aback, trying to recall as to whether or not she'd heard him swear before. He was rude, insensitive, and a real pain in the ass, but Retsu certainly couldn't recall having heard something so vulgar come out of his mouth. Her eyes turned the the bottle, a sigh escaping her as she attributed the comment to the wonderful world of alcohol. Were she in his position, Retsu wouldn't dare touch the stuff. Not only was it a death wish, but it significantly dulled the senses, leaving on in a state of bliss. She wouldn't be able to "relax" in such a way, especially with the killing that had gone on just outside the front door.

"Are you sick?" she asked, staring incredulously at his loose grip on the bottle.

Even in the dark, Retsu couldn't deny that the man looked positively haggard. She supposed that it was to be expected, as he'd been called down to the police station for hours at a time, probably missing out on a significant amount of sleep.

"You know, as someone who's been through therapy, I take offense to that question."

As if therapy absolved him of such behavior.

He sounded nothing short of bitter, having lost the condescending sarcasm that usually laced his tone. Retsu ignored his muttering, kneeling by the chair, inspecting him as best she could in the fleeing light that played across the skyline. His eyes, and nerves, were shot to hell, and she assumed that there would be a bout of dry heaves or vomiting later into the evening. She chalked this all up to fatigue and, undoubtedly, the "lovely" collection of scotch that sat in the kitchen cabinet.

"Bastard's getting worried. That's why he's moving closer to residential areas... where there are less people."

For being so well-respected, a term which she used only in reference to his powers of deductive reasoning, Mayuri had some of the most unconventional tendencies she'd seen in years. Rather than being productive, he seemed to spend his days toying with bodies, in and out of a hospital setting, severely limiting any real human contact. She supposed that, after going to hell and back, he'd just damned the world.

Retsu smiled grimly, taking this opportunity to pull the drink away while he was distracted. "And you know this because...?"

"Women are soft and weak. Incapable of something this extreme."

She didn't appreciate this, even if he were just stating some meaningless opinion. It felt like a direct attack, a sexist comment similar to the one he'd made the other night about her profession. Had she known he was going to act like such an inconsequential ass, she would have gone straight home and called Nemu directly. It would have made for a much better night than this.

Retsu bit back a cold retort, responding with a rather strained, "What makes you say that?" That lingering urge to slap him had returned.

"Science, logic, reason. Choose three."

Ignoring the obvious tension, she rolled her eyes, ensuring he could see her before she started towards the door, scotch in hand. As if he really needed anymore. There was a sharp tug backwards as he grabbed her by the wrist, staring up at her with brooding eyes.

"Leave it."

She pulled away, easily dismissing his words. "Let's think about this, shall we? You're on the verge of passing out, the window's been mysteriously shattered, and there's a killer lurking in the area who decided to be a gent and dump his latest victim on your front lawn." Retsu smiled coyly. "No, I think you've had quite enough."

Instead of chewing her out as she'd expected, Mayuri waved her off with a hand, resorting to a series of incriminating murmurs under his breath.

That, she decided, would teach him to call her weak.

**# - # - # - #**

Fifteen, and in eight weeks. The numbers were etched into his skull, and he _still _couldn't stay awake. Amazing, as he would have believed that single question to motivate him into keeping his eyes open: Why, after a seven-year absence, had this monster suddenly come back?

"Captain!"

Toshiro raised his head from the desk, having nodded off for a moment. He got to his feet, wandering out into the hall in hopes that standing would keep him awake. Matsumoto stood lecturing a rather sly-looking fellow with silver hair, a permanent grin on his face. He was handcuffed, the sleeves of his jacket lined with blood.

"Toshiro," the man laughed, "it's been a long time. How're ya holding up under all the pressure?"

The youth grimaced, pointing to the title on his uniform as he approached. "That's _Captain Hitsugaya_," he insisted, wishing the man would quit smiling.

The character before him was none other than Matsumoto's "on-and-off lover," Gin Ichimaru. One of the shadiest men Toshiro had ever had the displeasure of meeting, as well as one of the most disconcerting. The man always had that damned smile on his face, as if it had frozen that way from laughing too hard at a bad joke.

He turned to the officer who had brought him in, stretching as he spoke. "What have we got on him this time, Hisagi?" This was definitely not the first time Gin had been arrested.

"Found him at the site of a murder, sir," the man replied, handing Toshiro a small stack of papers.

The captain looked them over, knowing that there would be no going home tonight. According to the report, another victim, one Futatsu Ryogawa of Hokkaido, had been found downtown, a bullet through his chest and cyanide in his mouth. Investigation had proven that the man had ingested a fair amount of alcohol, probably having gotten lost on his way home. There had been no mark on the body, save for the wounds, but Toshiro was certain that their infamous murderer was behind it.

Random killings from each district of Tokyo, one of which had been an officer, and no motive that the young captain could fathom. Even if this person had a legitimate reason to murder each of his new total of sixteen victims, it still didn't make it right. The lot of them could have gotten together and bludgeoned him in the past, and he still wouldn't be absolved in a court of law. Murder was murder, and there were no excuses.

But Ryogawa's death was different. He was from the north, far outside the city limits, which was a significant clue. He must have done something to upset the killer, possibly running into him in a bar or some other public place. Regardless, it was now his priority to understand exactly why this man had been killed.

"You'll be staying with us until we get this sorted out, Gin," Toshiro said calmly, turning back to his subordinate with a grimace. "We're going to have to call in that crazy pathologist. Get him on the phone."

To be honest, Toshiro couldn't stand the man.


	8. Taking The Short Way Down

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 8: **Taking The Short Way Down

* * *

><p>"You really ought to let me go, Toshiro. Rangiku and I have some things planned for Thursday, and I can't very well keep my promise if I'm locked up like some criminal."<p>

The captain ignored him. Gin was a sly fox, an unintentional pun on his appearance, and Toshiro wasn't about to let him go without getting some answers. He'd been on the scene when Ryogawa had been found by a local, and if that wasn't suspicious, then the youth didn't know the meaning of the word. It was strange, though, watching how Matsumoto purposefully kept her distance from the man who was said to love her.

They'd probably had another fight. Just one more reason for the boy to completely ignore her. He didn't need to get sucked into the maddening vortex that was her love life.

To make matters worse, for the last three days, he hadn't been able to get in touch with the lunatic who'd passed himself off as a doctor A frightening idea, handing a medical license to someone as unhinged as Mayuri Kurotsuchi. Toshiro couldn't stand, much less trust, the man. He seemed to have a deranged fascination with the dead, bringing rather interesting ideas into the young captain's head.

Deciding it was none of his business, he'd dismissed said ideas, returning his focus to the matter at hand.

He didn't trust Gin, either, which only seemed to strengthen his suspicions against the man. But that was a personal factor, and certainly not one of consequence to the case. But the man _had _remained silent, refusing to do anything aside from sit there with that stupid smile on his face. The only words he'd really spoken during questioning had been, "Think I can get a glass of water?"

It was almost enough to make Toshiro tear his hair out. Good thing it was already white.

"You're not going anywhere, Gin," he retorted, rubbing his forehead thoughtfully. "You'll be staying here until you've decided to cooperate."

Although it was a small jump, sixteen being the new total was just too many people. Even one victim would have been too much to fathom. But there was something uncanny about this case. Something that made him believe that there might be someone on the inside, someone under his command, working with this deranged son of a bitch. As much as he wanted to trust and rely upon his men, his brothers-in-arms, Toshiro now found that he couldn't.

He would remain silent, hiding in the background so as to observe the behavior of his comrades. From now on, everyone would have to be treated like an enemy.

That unnerving smile seemed to grow wider, if at all possible. "Oh, but I have cooperated," he replied. "I reported a murder to the police. I didn't even leave to wash my hands of the blood."

Toshiro's eyes widened. "What did you say?" Stepping into the holding cell, his hands were in the collar of the man's shirt as he growled through gritted teeth, "Are you saying you _touched _the body?"

"Had to. I dropped my keys."

This was just lovely. One more thing for him to worry about. Gin was only making things moredifficult.

"Do you understand that you've contaminated a crime scene?" he shouted, knuckles turning white. "Now we have to factor in your involvement, you idiot! Matsumoto, get in here!"

The woman appeared instantly, her eyes wide as she looked at him, only to have them narrow dangerously when Gin waved a cuffed hand at her. "Yes, sir?"

"I don't care what it takes. Find Kurotsuchi, and _get him in here now_!"

**# - # - # - # **

He'd been following her around all day, constantly pestering her to talk to Nanao _for _him. Having no intention of getting in the middle of their fight, Retsu had told him off, insisting that he be the one to mend that which he'd broken. Being so insensitive to Nanao's feelings, it was entirely his fault. But that hadn't been good enough for Shunsui, as he had proceeded to tell her about how Nanao had walked out on him the night before, ending both her employment _and_ their engagement.

Retsu wouldn't deny that she felt bad for him, but not enough so as to clean up his mess. She hadn't done him any favors in the past, cooling Nanao down before he went off and offered up an apology that lasted three days at most. He'd grown far too used to that old routine, now depending upon it rather than his own ability to properly make amends to the woman he loved. A handful of times, Retsu had seen him make a sincere effort to quell Nanao's fury, even if it didn't always work. He just needed to get back to a point where he had the courage to try.

"I'm not getting involved, Shunsui," she said firmly, strolling down the street. "You're a grown man. Learn to take care of your own problems."

He whimpered behind her, tugging at the strap of her purse. It was pathetic being seen with him at the moment, as he was behaving very much like a spoiled child. Some passersby were giving them strange looks, while others laughed. She wasn't quite so embarrassed being _with _him than she was _for _him. At the moment, the man had no shame of any sort.

"Aw, come on, Retsu," he pleaded, stepping in front of her. "I swear, this is the last time."

As if she hadn't heard that one a hundred times before. She'd indulged him for far too long, and it was coming back to bite her. Retsu shook her head, sidestepping him as she walked through the doors of the library, turning only to press a finger to his lips in hopes of silencing him. But her efforts dis nothing, as he continued his incessant whining, earning a number of scowls from people who were trying to find solace within the pages of a book.

She set her things down at a table, taking him aside and instructing him to remain quiet. If kept this up, Retsu would be sorely tempted to ignore him as Nanao was doing. It would be unpleasant, having him call her all the time, but she would learn to deal. When he finally quieted down, Retsu found and handed him a book on maintaining a successful relationship before heading quickly out the door.

There was business to take care of, and having Shunsui over her shoulder wouldn't make it any easier.

**# - # - # - # **

Three days after the fact that Retsu had decided to play "babysitter," much to his chagrin, she hadn't so much as shown her face. He assumed it was embarrassment, a factor that women seemed to suffer from on a daily basis. That, or she really couldn't stand him. Not that it really mattered either way. The woman was a nuisance, about as useful as a lawnmower in a snowstorm, so it was actually a relief that she'd kept her distance.

It gave him much more time to focus on more important things. Like ignoring the incessant calls the police captain had made to his cell for the last three days.

There was no reason for Mayuri to go out of his way to make the brat happy. The papers told that the boy had already named the most recent victim, one Futatsu Ryogawa, as another murder in the ongoing investigation. Clearly, they didn't need his help to determine that.

Mayuri had half a mind to throw the phone across the room as it went off again, the number on the screen having been burned into his retinas. But, when it came right down to it, he'd much rather be staring down at the obnoxious youth than listening to the woman in the hallway who was screaming bloody hell about the fact that the oncologists had overlooked the cancer that had killed her husband.

Just one more reason he liked dealing with the dead. They couldn't throw a fit, and it was far easier to pry secrets away from them.

"You don't get out much, do you?"

Again, she was interjecting herself into situations where she wasn't needed. It was a cycle that just kept repeating itself. She showed up, made things more difficult, and ended up making things work out in her favor, anyway. Just like the first time, she'd walked right in on his work, dripping wet from the brewing storm outside. Without being prepared, to boot. She'd likely expected the damned weather to change, even after the grim forecast.

Miraculously, the screaming had stopped, almost as if she had some kind of calming presence over those grieving over the dear and dead.

He grimaced, staring up at her as he wiped up the floor. "God, I know this won't end well."

"It was just a question."

It was never _just _anything. Women always had some ulterior motive, some reason for asking questions. This was confirmed as that nerve-wracking smile had come into play, acknowledging that there was some kind of plan being set into motion here. Her eyes seemed to light up with whatever godawful idea she had bouncing around in her head, and it was making Mayuri feel nauseous.

It would be easier to _not _ask, but he couldn't help it.

"What do you want?"

All too quickly, she retrieved a message on her phone, pushing the thing into his had as he stared incredulously at the screen. It was the most idiotic thing he could have imagined, and her being the one to propose it only served to make the situation infinitely worse.

"No," he said, handing it back to her. "_Hell _no."

"Oh, don't be a child. It's a perfectly normal request. Besides, you could do with some social interaction."

Where the hell did she get off telling him what was needed? Last he'd checked, this woman was a Pediatrician, not a bloody therapist.

"I swear, you're the same as every other woman I've ever had the displeasure of speaking with. Impossible, irritating, and a real pain in the ass."

Her response was anything but expected, phone pressed to her ear as she waved and walked to the door. "It's settled then. I'll let them know we're going."


	9. Dark Dancing Lights

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 9: **Dark Dancing Lights

* * *

><p>There would be no denying that he was a fool for letting her win, let alone the fact that she'd gotten under his skin. Both factors contributed to making this rather unpleasant scenario even worse. Bright lights, people he didn't know, nor care to, and the miserable weather that had so lovingly decided to stick around. It all boiled down to the fact that this was just another night where he wouldn't get anything done. No productivity at all. There would only be severe mental torture and the poison that was socializing.<p>

It was far easier being left to his own devices, the atmosphere devoid of the woman's touch that people so commonly preached about. It was just an easier way of saying that a man couldn't take care of himself. He'd put that statement to rest in every way, having survived a good seven years without said "necessity." It was, by far, the stupidest notion Mayuri had heard in quite some time, and it was only floating to the surface _because _Retsu had managed to force him into this farce. There hadn't even been room for an argument, as she'd dismissed his refusal as a joke. And yet, he'd still decided to show up. A sure sign of weakness. If she were to ask why, he'd lie, insisting that it was because she was interesting and a contradiction to her seemingly sweet nature.

As far as screwing this up, that would be a start.

The whole ordeal had been set up outdoors at some country club or whatnot. He hadn't cared enough to remember what the damned place was, let alone what it was called. A real waste of time and effort, given the misery that would soon come raining down. Fortunately, the darkened atmosphere had been gracious enough to provide him with a rather secluded hiding place, far from prying eyes and foolish, giggling women. They were ridiculous, downing shots without a care as to who was watching. A trick that would, inevitably, lead to plenty of eager, wandering hands. Hands that needed to stay the hell away from him.

"It's a charity event." The voice made him roll his eyes, a mildly annoyed look crossing his face. "Try to have some fun."

"It _would_ be charity if I weren't here."

Even with little light, she was trying to make things difficult. Mayuri didn't like it at all, watching her smile at him as if he were some sort of unruly child. As if having sensed the contempt, she seated herself beside him, sighing contentedly.

"To be honest, I hate these things."

That was a shock. She hated pointless social gatherings, and yet she'd dared to bring it up the previous day and inform the fools in charge that they'd be present. For all he cared, the whole damned thing could go down in flames. Maybe lightning would strike.

"Why the hell did you bring it up?" The way she leveled her gaze was enough to imply that he was behaving like a mendacious dirtbag. Too bad for her that it was what came naturally.

She sipped her drink, shaking her head at a boisterous group of people standing by the door. The festivities were about to ensue. Leave it to a child doctor to peg the people who were behaving in a childish manner.

"Honestly? I wanted to bother you." The smile returned as she brushed her hair over her shoulder. "And it seems to have worked."

**# - # - # - #**

He couldn't believe what he'd just heard. "You're sure?" Uryu said shakily, trying to steady himself as he helped her into the car. "He said _yes_? You're sure?"

A smile graced Nemu's face as he slipped in beside her. "Not in so many words, but yes."

Uryu was confused. They'd gotten consent from her end of the spectrum, but, at the same time, it wasn't as satisfying as he'd initially hoped. It made no sense to him in the slightest. A yes that wasn't a yes. Didn't that still mean they'd have to hide again so as to avoid any unwanted complications? That they'd have to continue limiting the time they spent together? Troublesome as it was, he didn't plan on backing down, regardless of what had been said.

He knew how many problems he'd caused, making a scene after his grandfather's autopsy, insisting that the practitioner had some deep-seated obsession with the destruction of the human body. It had threatened his practice, bringing much unneeded animosity and disdain to the table. Still, he'd pursued her, deciding that he wanted to be with her.

"What, exactly, did he say?" Uryu was nervous, easing the vehicle into the dark evening traffic. Suspicion had crept in, delaying the long-awaited excitement of being free to visit her. Even their plans for dinner and a get-together with friends hadn't been able to keep the fear away.

She flashed him a smile, the most genuine he'd seen in weeks. "He said it was fine. We just need to keep it to ourselves."

It was a relief to hear that, but the nervousness still remained. Uryu wasn't too keen on meting Nemu at her house, for fear of some ploy designed to off him. He was young, but certainly not stupid. As such, he was very familiar with the inhumane tests her father had turned into a hobby. And that was putting it bluntly.

His stomach sank as they stepped out of the car, speeding across the parking lot so as to avoid the dreadful weather that was closing in. The drive had only been a few short minutes, but the rain was too much for them to have walked. Uryu's hand pulled the door open for her as the waitress greeted them, motioning towards a little table by the window. The sinking feeling was growing again as he sat down, staring blankly at the menu. He was hesitant about everything, fearing that what she'd said had been a mistake. It was nearly impossible to believe that her father would consent to their relationship, especially after the great uproar Uryu had caused.

"You'll be fine," she said, having read his thoughts. There was a sudden warmth as she touched his hand. "It's nothing to worry about."

He nodded, forcing a smile as the waitress returned with a drink that Uryu didn't remember ordering. Steadily, he felt as though he were losing his mind, the paranoia taking its toll.

**# - # - # - #**

Retsu hadn't expected this to work at all. She felt very much like a psychiatrist, trying to diagnose the darkest parts of a mind she'd rather not have anything to do with. Yet, she was inexplicably drawn to it. A contradiction if she'd ever seen one. Before Retsu had so much as walked out her door that evening, Toshiro had called and, as he knew that she was tutoring Nemu, asked if she'd seen Mayuri at all within the last four days. He sounded urgent, but she didn't want him to ruin her fun at the event, so she had said nothing about it. Instead, she had promised that she'd phone him as soon as she heard anything. In turn, he had promised to visit in the morning.

She wasn't one for lying, but this had been an opportunity that she just couldn't pass up.

Two months, six days, and several hours after their first meeting, and she was already having second thoughts about this. Cold, distant, and passive were only the tip of the iceberg, barely scraping the surface of that which she'd observed. Still, she'd had the nerve to tell him that he was going to be present at this event. So as to interrupt her plans of socializing him, it had started hailing twenty minutes before eleven, and she'd been foolish enough to walk to the party from her apartment an hour earlier. Retsu hadn't so much as checked the forecast before leaving, which easily explained why she had been laughing and hiding under a tree, ignoring the quizzical way he'd stared at her.

For certain, she had looked like a blubbering idiot.

Retsu wasn't supposed to care, as she had decided long ago that his opinions of her didn't matter. Still, she couldn't help feeling foolish, wishing that her impossible laughter would stop so she could form a coherent sentence. When it had finally subsided, the hail turned to rain, falling easily between the tree leaves, leaving a chill as it pervaded the fabric that covered her. It had been a mistake, daring to wear a lightweight sweater during the rainy season. And it was that very mistake that now had her standing in the lobby of her building with him, both dripping on the tiled floor.

"You're shaking." She pressed a hand to his face, surprised that he didn't move to slap her away.

The look he gave her was mocking, expressing that she'd stated something that was perfectly obvious. "It's _raining_."

There was no way to hide the smile, despite the fact that she was remorseful. "I didn't really make that call yesterday," she admitted, reaching out to finger the smooth fabric of his tie. "I was just looking for a way to irritate you."

Mayuri's face was blank, likely intrigued by the fact that she'd so easily duped him.

"Well, you can't go home like that. Come upstairs and dry off. I'll make you something to drink."

A part of her sincerely hoped that he'd wave her off, as he'd previously appeared to be hellbent on getting as far away from her socializing ploy as possible. Instead, he'd shrugged, muttering to himself as she slipped into the elevator. It was awkward, being in such a small space with him, but Mayuri didn't seem to notice. Fortunately, the ride was short, thanks to the late hour and lack of people in the halls, bringing the clean hallway air to her attention as she stepped out.

Less than twenty steps later, the key was in the door, the lights being flipped on as she crossed the threshold. Retsu felt as though time couldn't move quickly enough, even as she moved into the laundry room to hang her dripping sweater and retrieve the towels she'd washed the day before. Stepping back out into the kitchen, Retsu set the towels on the counter top, filling the pot with steaming water before starting up the coffee maker.

"Are you always this nice to people you can't stand, or is it strictly guilt?"

Setting her things on the table, she allowed herself to fall onto the couch with a sigh. Had it not been so on-the-mark, Retsu would have been floored by the question. It was true that she couldn't stand his cold, shameless behavior, but she felt guilty for coercing him into something that had been a complete disaster. Then again, even had things gone as nicely as she'd planned, the guilt still would have remained. It was just a natural part of her programming. He seemed to know this, and still he was going out of his way to rub it in. Talk about salt in the wound.

Now, she felt genuinely horrid, suddenly comparing herself to the astounding number of petty, vindictive medical students she came into contact with on an almost daily basis.

Retsu allowed her eyes to close, her head easily sinking in the plush feel of the cushion. The answer was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't bring herself to spit it out, despite the nasty taste. Of course, it wasn't entirely guilt, but she couldn't very well say that. It was interest, her inquisitive mentality having taken over for a good many days.

Interest. She was starting to sound like him.

Her eyes snapped open, a wave pulsing through her as she felt herself move, horrified that she'd seated herself on his chest, fingers grazing his face. No move was made to shoo her away, Mayuri's dark eyes brimming with the same curiosity that was found bubbling in her chest. She gasped, his touch lingering on her collar, sliding down so as to tug on the fabric of her dress.

This was exactly why Retsu had never favored wine.

She leaned down, her lips pressing against his own, her hands grasping the lapels of his shirt, pulling him up to meet her. Teeth scraped against her jaw as he sat up, hot breath settling against her throat. The rain pounded against the window, mimicking the way her heart fluttered in her chest. Everything about this was wrong, right down to the carnal desire that had settled in her head.

Retsu got to her feet, earning a low growl. The mood had been set, and she didn't want to disturb it for long. She reached down, grabbing Mayuri by the front of his shirt, leading him back into her room. They were alone, but she kicked the door closed, barely having the time to turn around before she was pressed into the wall, his hands clawing at the fine fabric of her dress. She felt herself flinch, his teeth digging lightly into the pale skin of her throat, hands wandering to touch her legs.

In turn, Retsu pulled at his waistband, reveling in the heated hiss that kissed her skin. Mayuri pulled his hands from her milky thighs just long enough to shrug out of the jacket and leave his shirt on the floor. Retsu's fingers immediately moved to his chest, gliding across skin, nipping enticingly. He growled, lifting the hem of her dress so as to caress the smooth warmth of her stomach. The cloth was slid up, and she flung it over her head, her lips crashing back down on his as she heard the outfit make contact with a nearby lamp with a thump before being taken by gravity. As tongues dueled for dominance, she made quick work of all remaining clothing, shoving the heap to the floor.

Her bra was next to go, his hands wandering south so as to add to the suspense. She gasped at the sensation, the agonizing strokes, clutching his back as he licked and sucked on delicate skin before trailing his tongue down to her sternum and across her stomach.

And to think that this had all started because she'd dared to offer him a drink.

It was a barrage of sensation, her muscles tightening in response to the welcome intrusion, her back pressed against the cold sheets. The movements were gentle, easily contrasting the seemingly steely persona. His mouth moved over her spine as she leaned forward, causing her to shiver at the delicious sensation. Her back arched at the contact, and her head snapped back with a throaty gasp. He leaned into her as she turned to meet his lips in a frantic kiss, reveling in the dark growl brimming in his throat. Sweat beaded on her forehead, the pressure building quickly in her belly as she tried to pull him closer. She could feel herself teetering on the edge of bliss, fingers pressed against her to aid the process, pushing her over the edge.

Her nails pierced his skin, coaxing another hiss from him. If anything, he was working to give her what she wanted, leaving a pleasant trail of flame across her wet skin. Retsu moaned, feeling the pressure boil over, a flood that she couldn't have anticipated. It was elation that had settled in, that unbending desire for more of the intoxicating aroma. He pulled back, causing her to gape as she settled herself into his arm, casting aside the fact that she would, undoubtedly, have to change the sheets again the following morning.

No part of her plan had even come close to becoming reality, but the way she felt now, Retsu couldn't care less.


	10. Like A Midnight Train To Hell

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 10: **Like A Midnight Train To Hell

* * *

><p>"Where the <em>hell <em>do you get off ignoring my calls? In the nine days you've been gone, we've had another three killings!"

Toshiro was furious, a tea kettle that had long-since reached the boiling point. He'd grown fed up, having to assume that each of the killings was murder. One man, it appeared, had hung himself, but being the dedicated officer he was, Toshiro wanted to be positive. And without the investigation's forensic pathologist, the case was essentially at a standstill, thus giving the killer more leeway than should have ever been allowed.

It only irked him more when the man, still grinning, shrugged off his outburst.

"I've seenthe papers."

There was a loud slam as the officer hit the wall with a fist, his head feeling like it were about to break. "That doesn't help us at all! It doesn't do anything to catch this bastard!"

Usually, Matsumoto was the one who got on his nerves, but, in less than fifteen minutes, Mayuri had outdone her in every way. The captain was seething, his steaming mug of coffee now dripping over the side of his desk, staining several other important reports that he had not yet filed. But they were all irrelevant. He'd gladly take the heat from the higher-ups were he to put this bastard in his place.

But, based on the fun the man was having, Toshiro was starting to lose his confidence in that idea.

The youth scowled, shooing Matsumoto away as she poked her head through the door. If anything, she was looking in to see what all the shouting was about. She had konpeito candy stuck to her face, as well as an amused smile. He wasn't sure, but she was either laughing at him for losing his temper, or she'd managed to get along swimmingly with Gin again, who was still locked up in the holding cell.

Now that he was thinking about the man, Gin seemed to be set on being difficult. He continued to insist that he'd had nothing to do with Futatsu Ryogawa's death, and was sticking to his story about having dropped his keys. Still, Toshiro didn't believe it. Hadn't from the start. Inspection of the corpse had shown that Gin's fingerprints were all over his clothes, and that the sly fox's jacket had minute traces of gunpowder on the sleeve, matching that found on Ryogawa. The only thing that was missing was the murder weapon: An imported 9mm handgun that had been fired point-blank at the victim.

Sadly, a search of Gin's apartment had shown that he didn't own a gun.

Toshiro would have to worry about that later, as he still had something more immediate to deal with. He grimaced, noting that Matsumoto was still standing in the doorway, popping candy into her mouth as if she were watching some kind of comedy at the movie theater.

"Go finish your work, Matsumoto. And get me a towel while you're at it." He lifted his hand out of the coffee, hoping that it wouldn't damage the wood finish on his desk. Not that it mattered if it did. Toshiro scowled as she rushed off, turning to hiss at Mayuri, "Go do your damn job."

**# - # - # - # **

Retsu had been surprised by nothing after that night. It had been the biggest shock she'd experienced to date, and not even Nanao taking Shunsui back had been enough to throw her. Besides, anyone who knew the couple well could have seen their reunion coming from more than a mile away. It was a cycle that just kept going, and one hell of a ride for Nanao and her emotions.

Now, she had finished off her grocery shopping, putting things away in the cabinets as the news buzzed on the television screen with live coverage. Had the newspapers at the market not brought the situation to her attention, Retsu wouldn't have bothered turning the thing on. She wasn't one for mindless channel surfing, but the new found knowledge that the killer was in her area now had Retsu on edge. For the last two nights, which had been the time that the last killing had occurred, she had been unable to sleep soundly, waking every two hours or so in order to check the locks on the door and windows.

Grabbing a blanket from the closet, Retsu curled up on the couch with a hot bowl of soup, staring nervously at the screen as she lifted the spoon to her lips.

These, the images that flashed before her eyes, were horrid. The broadcast was coming from two blocks to the northeast, a quick ten minute stroll from her apartment building. Children could be seen in the background, all with wide eyes and shocked faces, many with hands clinging to the clothing of their parents. Some were crying, held tightly in loving arms before being whisked away to a much happier place. Retsu felt very much like the children she could see. Frightened, shocked, and curious. It was only to be expected for the little innocents, being far too young to understand exactly what a murder was. Even she, being a grown woman, couldn't fully understand. Yes, she knew what the context was, what things were classified as such unholy acts, but it was the motive that threw her for a loop. Money, possessions, even sex were things that people would kill for. But this seemed to be planned; a game of cat-and-mouse that this killer was playing with the cops.

Yet, she somewhat envied them. For the time being, the innocents were safe from harm, living within the refuge of their parents' homes while the rest of the people in the world fought for position, eager to claw their way to the top or, at the very least, to a place of solitude.

It then dawned on her that there was a chance that the despicable character in question was watching the news at this very second, reveling in the chaos that was being created, one body at a time. It was reminiscent of the hit films that came out every few years or so, the ones wherein people were killed left and right. The differences between the screen and life was overwhelming. In movies, the perpetrator was often zeroed in on immediately. In this case, that of reality, the murderer hadn't made their debut on the screen just yet.

As much as she had wanted it, Retsu was suddenly finding herself very fortunate that her papers to adopt from a child from the Ai No Kesshin Agency hadn't yet been approved. Were there a child in her care, it would have only served to worry her more. Still, she wanted one. She just wasn't willing to wait for someone to show up and aid her in that respect.

A loud sound from her room caused her to jump, eyes wide. It was likely that something had fallen off the dresser and hit the wall, but, as it had already disturbed her, Retsu found no reason why she shouldn't take care of it now. Besides, the later the hour, the more inclined she was to ignore trifles and go straight to bed. Pulling herself from the comfort of the couch, Retsu headed into her room, eyes looking for the source of the noise. She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, crossing her arms as well. It seemed to have gotten significantly colder, which was odd as she didn't remember leaving the ceiling fan on.

Turning, Retsu stared at the window, gaping at the fact that it was shattered. Ignoring any ideas of danger, she leaned gently through the hole in the glass, wondering how it could have possibly been broken. She was alone, and hadn't had a visitor in three days. The sudden knock on her front door made her heart do a back flip, startled yet grateful that someone had decided to come along at such a time. She rushed out of the room, pressing her hands to the door as she struggled to unlock the latches. Living alone, one couldn't be too careful when it came to locking up.

Retsu wrenched the door open, curious as to why all the lights in the hallway were turned off. She peered into the darkness, making out the lit exit signs and elevator buttons that seemed to glare back at her. The blanket still around her shoulders, she ventured to ask if anyone was there, feeling rather foolish for doing so, as it appeared that she was, still, by herself. Stepping out into the hallway, it was as if the darkness had started spinning. It was all black, but it seemed to swirl over her head, creating various patterns that somehow had her entranced.

Suddenly, it didn't feel like she was suffocating in fear.

# - # - # - #

This didn't feel right. There was no sense of remorse in this person's eyes, no desire to sympathize and understand. It was all about filling a quota, obtaining that paycheck, fitting the perfect mold of the modern, nosy, seemingly kind teacher. Just another classic case of self-service. It was a waste being here, staring blankly at her own hand as it trembled. This woman sitting before her, what with her dyed hair and solid expression, was like a statue.

Being in her presence, listening to her, speaking to back in whispers, was like communicating with a wall, immobile, unfeeling, empty. She hated strangers, hated the way they made her feel. So long as she wasn't close to them, the people she knew would remain strangers. She'd even told this woman as much. She felt lost, alone, inferior, even with Uryu sitting beside her. That, however, had been kept silent.

Some, like this cold woman, might argue that she had gone against what she preached, having shared the most intimate of secrets with some unknown person upon their first meeting two months ago. Nemu wouldn't say it here, but she felt safe with Retsu, almost as if she would be the one to understand that which so many could not. There had been genuine empathy in her leveled gaze as the message had been conveyed, revealing to her a desire to aid and heal.

She had started off as a tutor, a complete mystery, only to end up a friend.

"This has to stop." His eyes were like flint, cold and unforgiving as he worked to stare their teacher down. "All of you do this. You ask the same questions, as if you're really expecting to get a different answer. You ask if she's ever been harmed, and when she answers, you don't believe it. It seems to me that the lot of you are _looking _for something to be wrong. As if some dark secret's being kept just because a student is raised by a single parent."

It was incredible, watching the stern look on the woman's face as Uryu went on, having completely disarmed her trap. He had a point. They _did _always ask the same questions at these meetings, as if doing so would trip her up or make her say something that wasn't true. She hated how they all wanted to believe something so dark.

"I don't see you bringing Ichigo Kurosaki in here for a nice little chat. I don't see you interrogating Rukia, Chad, or Orihime. From what I can see, you don't even bother to check up on the facts. You just start digging around like it's nobody's business, not even considering her feelings!" Nemu felt herself jump as he slammed a hand on the table. "Not once have you even asked _me_ these questions, and I'm in the same boat! So, what's it really about? The situation she's in, or the persons involved?"

The woman hesitated, her eyes wide as she stared at the two. She wouldn't dare say it here, but Nemu was pleased that Uryu had the courage to say what she'd been thinking. He did her some good, taking a stand as he always did. It was a welcome bit of confidence that he instilled in her each time they were together.

She hadn't enough time to even blink as he grabbed her by the hand, swiftly ushering her out of the classroom. When they were far enough away, he broke into a sprint, leading her out the double doors and down the concrete stairs. Although it was well after eight in the morning, and a Saturday, no less, the sun somehow managed to peek through the heavy clouds, throwing down streams of light that hadn't been seen in several days. For some unknown reason, it seemed that the heavens were dead set upon showering the bustling city with an air of woe and despair.

After so long, she was pleased that there was something truly bright to look at.

She wanted so much to speak to him, to thank him for having said everything that she couldn't. It always seemed to work that way when they were together. It was as if she'd somehow printed her thoughts on a page that was invisible to the rest of the world, written in ink that only he could see. Perhaps that was why she'd felt lost for so long. There had never been anyone to guide her through the stages, and so she'd walked blindly, having made it this far based on dumb luck alone.

She wanted to tell him this, but the buzzing in her purse stole her attention. The plastic was cold in her hand, fingers darting across the screen, sending little vibrations through her arm. A sincerely unpleasant thing stared her in the face, garnering even Uryu's attention as he noted her unnaturally tense air.

It seemed that, on this day, nothing was willing to work itself out.


	11. A Phantom In Those Eyes

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 11: **A Phantom In Those Eyes

* * *

><p>Kisuke had his suspicions, but that's all they were at the moment. Vain ideas with no substantial evidence to back them. As such, he would condemn himself to silence and observe the situation as best he could. Being a man of the black market by trade, standing quietly in the background was his specialty.<p>

When he'd caught wind of the incident, a mere twenty minutes after its occurrence, he'd sent some things, in the care of Yoruichi, to the hospital. The goodies had included a number of sweet-smelling herbs he had acquired, all legal substances this time, both for tea and the clearing of Retsu's head. As he maintained operations near her apartment complex, Kisuke was always in the know-how on the streets. He even knew how long she'd lived there. But it wasn't just her. He knew about the entirety of her building's occupants. That's just how he worked. The attempt on her life had been no exception. To the outsider, he was a shadowy character, but he was always the insistent one when it came to lending a hand. Even if his name wasn't printed nearly on the labels of his products.

In fact, he quite preferred it that way. It wouldn't do to have the police learning that he, a handsome street merchant, was dabbling in the workings of the black market. His reputation would, for certain, be soiled.

Returning to his aforementioned suspicions, Kisuke had every reason to believe that the man in the custody of the police had a hand in the murders, whether as the brains or a mere accomplice. Gin Ichimaru was very much like Kisuke himself, only not quite as refined. He was a sly fox, and a regular at the local bar, although he didn't drink. Again, it was naught but an empty idea, regardless of the fact that Kisuke wanted to stick a pin in him for the police. Still, when he considered the possibilities on a greater spectrum, he found that the arrow seemed to point to an old friend of the fox. An untamed fellow with a habit, and record, of taking advantage of young girls and their raging hormones.

In fact, as Kisuke had just learned, this Sosuke Aizen had recently supplied him with a generous bit of business, having purchased a significant supply of certain drugs that would aid his dark desires. Upon discovering this, Kisuke had been swift to chew out his associate, who had ordered said drugs from a local gang, the Yakusoku. Kisuke hadn't been kind with his words, having told the man that all business from Aizen was unwelcome, and that he was not to be taking anymore "special orders" without consulting him first.

In addition, he had quickly disposed of the man's payments.

He didn't want to be implicated for helping the man violate yet another innocent. He'd heard, within the last month or so, that a close friend of one of the captains on the Force had been simply stricken with Aizen, having offered herself to him as if he were some kind of deity. For that, the officer had gone out looking for blood. Now, what with Aizen having been found at the scene of another crime, the attempt on Retsu's life, it seemed that the captain was going to get his wish.

Now, Aizen seemed to have been caught with his hands in more than just the cookie jar.

**# - # - # - # **

When she awakened, there was naught but the dull light of the moon though the window to keep her company, the whistling wind mocking her foolishness as it swept through the leaves of the trees. She certainly felt foolish, having allowed emotion to overcome her in the last moments she remembered, tricking her into believing that help, someone to comfort her, had been on the other side of her door. It had been nothing more than a broken window and a cryptic message that had put her over the edge, but she couldn't rule out the news broadcast as a factor quite yet. It had been covering the latest murder, that of a man who lived in the very same building as she. Really, it had all been too much for her nerves to handle.

For weeks, she'd kept herself in check, not once letting on that she'd put in papers to adopt a child from Kyushu whose parents had perished while on a fishing trip. From what information Retsu had been able to gather, the child was a little girl of three, unwanted by extended family members and family friends. For that reason she'd decided to make the effort to bring her a life that she could love in the years to follow.

Thinking back on, what she believed to be, the night before, Retsu found it strange that her window, which sat on the seventh floor, could have been broken from the outside. Stranger still was the fact that she was alive with nothing more than minor gunshot wounds to her left side and leg. Recalling the events leading to the present, Retsu remembered that she'd had the buzzing of the television as company, but that had only served to further aggravate her after the discovery in regards to the window had been made. It still wasn't clear if the person who had committed the crime had actually been trying to kill her. She couldn't think of anyone, aside from Nanao, who had the key to her apartment. She did, however, remember the man who had been following her at the grocery store. He'd looked friendly enough, what with his soft brown eyes and hair, but there had been an air about him that had frightened her.

If there was anyone she'd peg for this, it was him.

"When Death knocks on your door, is it always your first idea to answer?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "Only when I remember that I'm suddenly involved with an emotionless block of ice." Retsu pressed a finger to her lips in mock thought. "Now that I think on it, I suppose I should have opened the door every other time he came by over the last three days. It really would have saved me the trouble of having this conversation."

There was a quiet sound as several envelopes fell from Mayuri's hand onto her lap. "Four," he corrected. "Found you this morning. Clearly, you can't rely on your neighbors for help. So, it looks like you're stuck with the heartless bastard."

Retsu ignored him, her focus now on the shredded ends of the envelops. Looking through them, she noted that she hadn't seen any of these papers before. A clear indication that everything before her was new, albeit having been pulled out of their respective shells. She leveled her gaze at him, raising her eyebrows slightly, wishing that she were close enough to snuff out the amused fire in his eyes.

"You opened my mail? Last I checked, that's a federal offense."

Mayuri shrugged, kicking the chair against the wall to the side of her bed. "Curiosity." He seemed to tense up as she placed her hand over his. "When these idiots decide to quit fussing, we'll take care of this."

Retsu's eyes widened and her jaw slackened, a rather large envelope having found its way into her hand. The logo in the corner was enough to make her heart skip a beat, as was the fact that it too had been torn open. She swiped it away, yanking the documents out and scanning them in a hurry. For months she'd been kept waiting, being told only over the phone that her forms had not yet been processed. It was a sincere relief to finally find that, at long last, she'd been granted a small shred of hope.

Finally, Ai No Kesshin had given her the green light to adopt one of the children in their care.

"I've no idea why you'd even want one," Mayuri huffed, shaking his head at her. "They get to be a real pain. Speaking of which, did I mention the fact that you died?"

First of all, children and death had _nothing_ in common with one another. And second...

"_What_?"

Surely, it had to be a lie. Aside from the sharp stabs of pain that came and went, Retsu felt fine. A little dazed, perhaps, but not too out of the ordinary. She looked for some sign, any at all, that would allow her to catch him in a lie, or, at the very least, some cruel joke. To her chagrin, there was no indication of a myth as he waited for her response, the silent nodding of her student in the doorway, whom she had only just noticed, confirming it.

She wouldn't doubt Nemu, but it seemed unlikely that she could slip into the hands of death, only to be pulled back at the last second. Then again, having much experience in the most gruesome of settings, it wasn't exactly unheard of. Uncommon, given her state of being, but not impossible in the least. With that in mind, Retsu supposed that it was entirely probable idea that she'd been one of the few who'd left and come back.

There had been eyes, she remembered. A pair of eyes that, at the last minute, had stared back at her from that swirling dream of black and gray. They had been the same as everything else, the color having been sucked out of them at the last second, leaving her to draw a blank. As she was sure that the police would stop by to question her before she was released, Retsu thought it to be of great importance that she work to remember as much as possible.

**# - # - # - #**

When he'd been forced to deploy another unit that morning, Toshiro had been exhausted. For the entirety of the night, he'd sat up, replaying ever movement that both he and the killer had made over the last ten weeks. It was astounding, trying to figure this out, as it seemed that the bastard had everything planned just so. He felt as though he had been playing into the killer's hands over the last two-and-a-half months, and the young captain now found that he was putting himself through the wringer for it.

Toshiro was an intellectual sort, using his head rather than force or well-played words. He was one who enjoyed the simple things in life. Crisp air, light rain, and chess. Thinking about it, he felt as though that was exactly what he was doing. For this lengthy period of time, he'd been engaged in a battle of wit with this coward, having been played like a fool, as he'd allowed his emotions and personal attachments to get in the way.

But, in dire straits like this, it wasn't a wonder he got so worked up. It had been a difficult thing, clawing his way up in the world. Going from being an orphan on the street to foster homes, and, from there, to the warm embrace of a family who had wanted him. Everything from then on was nothing more than history. The death of his father, his savior, his acceptance and graduation from the police academy, and, finally, his current position as a captain in the Force. Now, to make things even more difficult, Retsu had been attacked in the dead of night, and his friend Momo had been named as the lunatic who was infatuated with a rather twisted individual.

Fortunately, said individual, Sosuke Aizen, was now in custody.

Toshiro had never liked the man, having only been in contact with him thanks to Gin and Matsumoto, but he'd never once pegged him as one to shoot a woman and take advantage of teenage girls. That impression of him had easily changed over the last three weeks. When he'd gotten the call earlier that morning, the one that informed him of Aizen being present in Retsu's apartment with a handgun, the youth had very nearly flipped the shit. To further add to his shock, Mayuri had been the one to catch the bastard. From what Toshiro understood based on the statement of the lunatic and a few of Retsu's neighbors, Aizen had tried to make a run for it.

If that didn't spell out "guilty," then Toshiro wasn't a police captain.

He strolled out of his office, graciously accepting the cup of coffee that Matsumoto had placed in his hand. He was beat, and not in the mood to quarrel with her about his preference for hot cocoa. Besides, he really could use the caffeine, as he wouldn't be off the clock until six-thirty.

"You don't really believe this, do you, Toshiro?"

The boy nodded. "I won't ask what my opinion means to you, Aizen. I already know. You believe yourself to be innocent, as all convicts do. If, by some stretch of the imagination, you're found innocent of the assault by means of forensic evidence, then that's fine. However, I know you're guilty of... other things."

They were too dreadful to speak of, and Toshiro didn't want to dwell on them. He'd requested that the chief take him off the other case, as he didn't want to make judgments based upon his own emotional attachments. The chief had commended him for this, and had graciously handed the case over to an older, more experienced, officer. Another captain, if Toshiro had his facts straight.

"I won't deny that," the man said with a chuckle. "But I digress... She loves me."

"She _thinks _she loves you," Toshiro shot back. "You ruined her. You took advantage of her wounded heart. Broke her down until she fell into your arms."

A smile. "What is it you're here for, Captain? As I understand, you've come to question me. Isn't that right?"

Toshiro scowled, closing the door behind him, crossing the room to the table. He dropped a small stack of files onto the cool metal surface, the chair scraping against the floor as he sat. If Aizen wanted to be proven wrong, then so be it. As he wasn't feeling to generous at the moment, Toshiro would be more than happy to comply.

"Where were you on the night of June 28?"

Aizen smirked, shaking his head at the boy. "You mean last night." A contented sigh. "If you must know, I was enjoying a leisurely walk. That's all."

"In Bunkyo, to be exact. To the southeast of Todai," Toshiro feigned surprise. "Very interesting. That's right where the event in question took place: the Sukikyo Yari apartments. Expensive, given the height and scenery, but beautiful place to live, really. A couple blocks from Ueno Park."

"I assure you, I wasn't there." The man's voice was flat all of a sudden, having lost that warm tone that made everything seem like a pleasant conversation. He was serious, but that wasn't nearly enough to save him. "It was like passing dream," he continued. "The lights of passing traffic were a blur, spinning."

"That's not relevant. Now," Toshiro tapped his fingers on the table, "you were seen entering the building. Based upon the statements we have gathered here, you used the elevator, which came to rest on the seventh floor. This was at around ten last night." Toshiro paused, the door opening as Matsumoto tossed a blue folder onto the table before leaving. The captain read over the papers inside, trying not to smile. "Forensics found traces of your DNA and fingerprints on both the weapon and the victim's door."

By this point, Aizen seemed to have given up on trying to convince him of anything. This action didn't pronounce him guilty, but the evidence did. The captain stood, stepping out into the hall as two officers dragged the man from the room. If Aizen were the one they'd been looking for, then it seemed a safe assumption that Gin was an accomplice, or, at the very least, in the know. It seemed that this case, that of the Irooni Killer, was drawing to a close, much to Toshiro's great relief. The man had terrorized Tokyo for over a year in the past, and now another two months in the present. Perhaps, now, he could finally get some real sleep.

"Captain!"

Toshiro groaned loudly, turning to see Tachibana running towards him with wide eyes. He swallowed a crude phrase, sipping gingerly at his coffee. "What is it now?"

The man bowed slightly, likely having seen the distress on his superior's face. "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but we've found another body."

The coffee flew from the youth's mouth like water from a faucet, his blue eyes wide with disbelief. "What?" he roared, dropping the mug. The ice-gray piece of porcelain, which had his family name on it, shattered as it hit the floor, mirroring his peace of mind. "What do you mean, 'another body?' Aizen's in custody! It's been proven that he tried to kill Retsu Unohana!"

Another bow. "I-I'm sorry, sir!" Tachibana stuttered. "W-We just got a call from a woman in Akiruno. She said that she found a body under her car in the driveway a few minutes ago. From what she said about his clothing, we believe that the man is a member of the Yakusoku Gang."

"Dammit," Toshiro hissed, pressing a hand to his forehead. "This bastard just doesn't want to give us a break."


	12. No Fear Of Being Found

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 12: **No Fear Of Being Found

* * *

><p>The white halls, littered with scribbles on paper, was simply gut-wrenching. The place was clean enough, but it was more like a blinding nightmare than a haven. They could be heard, the little monsters, through the walls as the younger ones pleaded to go outside and play. Every door that was passed was like another sigh of relief, the constant fear of being assaulted by pint-sized creatures being broken for moments at a time. For lack of a better comparison, it was like being hung upside down over the side of a ship in a storm. Symptoms included nausea, vomiting, and the fear of impending doom.<p>

Being one who took pride in his intelligence, Mayuri couldn't believe that, once again, he'd managed to walk right into another hole, bribed by bright eyes and a ten-second conversation that ended with "do it for me." Now, he was following her very much like a dog on a leash.

Goddamn emotional attachment.

"I can't believeyou sucked me into this." He knew what a load that was.

Retsu finally came to stop in front of a door, a smile on her face. "If I remember correctly, you said that _we_ would take care of this when they released me. Or were you just saying things?"

He wasn't about to answer that, as she'd likely go off on some tangent about how he didn't give a damn. Since she was a woman, it didn't take too much imagination on his part to see that coming. Still, it was true: He didn't care about watching children drool all over him in hopes of being taken away from this place. Hearing about it, however, would be far worse. He'd had it piled on before, the constant nagging and the whole "if you really cared, you'd cooperate" lecture that he'd heard a thousand times past. There was really no hurry to go back to that, so he'd keep his mouth shut.

One hell of an ordeal, being who he was.

That feeling of dread resurfaced as the door opened, revealing a wide-eyed girl, no older than three, whose mouth would have looked a _lot _better had it been sewn shut.

She stared up at him with a smile that made her look an awful lot like a gaping goldfish. He returned the stare, far more worried than anything else. It was like an electric shock, feeling her latch onto his leg as she beamed up at Retsu, chirping something along the lines of: "You come to get me?" He hadn't cared enough to pay attention. He just wanted this kid _gone_.

Retsu seemed to have read him like an open book, touching his shoulder with a quiet, "This won't take long" which seemed to make the girl cling to him even tighter. By the gods... "She's not going to kill you," she laughed. "Besides, if you can avoid making a scene, the tables just might tip in your favor."

That was when it stopped being a negotiation. Now, she was bound to that.

There was a quiet click as the door to the office closed, leaving Mayuri stranded with this very outgoing little girl. She just kept smiling, almost as if she were oblivious to the fact that he was trying to glare her away. With a pleased squeal, she hopped across the room to fetch a bag that she'd dropped on the floor, sitting down to yank open the zipper. On the inside of the brightly colored pack, she had a number of things, namely paper and crayons, which were crumpled up beyond recognition. She didn't even seem to notice that there was another bag, about as tall as she was, that sat idly outside the office. Likely the rest of her things.

"Lookie!" she giggled, tipping the backpack upside down, spilling its contents. Her tiny hand flew to one of the crumpled pages she'd forced into his hand, pointing out a bright orange scribble with what looked to be eyes. "Izz a fish!"

If anything, it looked more like an infant had coughed up carrots on the page, and, with that idea in mind, Mayuri wanted the thing as far from him as possible. Of course, he wasn't going to say anything. Just talking to kids was one of those things that almost always went wrong. Everything he said to them came off as pissy, only adding to the overwhelming fear that the little monsters seemed to feel. And, as it had been proven time and again, they always cried.

"Great..." Gods, when was this going to _end_?

"Mama tell 'me 'bout you," the child quipped, her face suddenly very serious. Or, at least, as serious as a three-year-old could be, round face and all. "She say you and Mama take me home." Great. She'd talked to a three-year-old about him, probably instilling ideas into the child's head that would lead her to believe that she was going to a real family. Bullshit. That aside, based on what she'd just said, it sounded like Retsu really _was _serious about taking her away from this place. It sounded positively horrid. And, since she'd failed to explain, he was assuming the brat's name was Akemi.

She went on, suddenly changing the subject to why she liked this and that color. But, really, it was just a dull roar in his ears.

_Just wake me when the nightmare ends..._

**# - # - # - # **

"What is it, Captain Hitsugaya? Did I not tell you everything?"

He'd been yanked out of the holding cell yet again, only to be thrown back into the chum-filled swimming pool. Delightful. Based on the interrogation he'd received upon being picked up, the shark, it seemed, was the young captain himself. A lovely idea, having his flesh peeled away by a vindictive little beast. It seemed that the captain wanted to make him uncomfortable, which was proving to be difficult. Sosuke wasn't bothered by trite things like confinement, as it was reminiscent of his skulking through the underworld. At the very least, they could loosen the handcuffs. Any more of this, and he wouldn't be able to move his fingers.

That wouldn't do at all.

The youth looked grim, holding a videotape in hand. "No," he retorted. "In fact, you didn't." The boy turned, pointing to a television that sat in the corner of the room as it flickered to life. "Quite conveniently, you neglected to inform me that you saw and followed your victim while at the grocery store. Now, tell me, Sosuke: _Why _would you do that?"

Sosuke furrowed his brow slightly, wondering the very same thing. He couldn't recall even being at the grocery store, let alone seeing the woman that the police had proven he'd attacked. Clothing fibers, DNA, and the weapon he'd tried to flee with. Funny how it was all still a blank. Unable to find a response to the officer's question, he simply shrugged, maintaining that cool façade, and shook his head. "I really have no idea."

"Of course not. Do you know why?" There was a light laugh. "When we brought you in two days ago, we tested you for drugs. And, by all the odds," he sounded sarcastic now, "the test came up positive." A paper was thrown on the table before him. "With _opiates._ So, would you mind telling me exactly what you were playing around with on the night of the attack? You'd be wise to say 'yes.'"

He was a proud man, and certainly not one to exploit his reasoning, let alone the methods in which he chose to unwind.

There was a knock on the door, and an officer stepped in, holding a phone in his hand. "Captain," he said, "we got another report. I... I think you might want to hear this for yourself."

The captain rose from his seat, shooting Sosuke a warning glare that made him smile. Typical of kids, trying to scare their enemies. Or, in Toshiro's case, his captives. It wasn't a long wait, but still uncomfortable, given the metal that was digging into his wrists. He fidgeted a bit, managing to loosen the cuffs slightly when the youth walked back in.

"You're clear," he said bitterly, throwing a hand onto the table.

Sosuke raised an eyebrow, easily looking smug. "Oh? And just how did that happen, _Captain_?"

"Shut up. Don't think you're off the hook. In regards to your..." Toshiro swallowed "...multiple offenses on underage girls, you're done."

"And as for the rest of the charges?"

The captain scoffed. "None of your business." He nodded, bringing the officer back into the room.

As Sosuke was pulled away, he turned, looking back at the youth with that coy grin. "You'll soon see things my way, Captain Hitsugaya," he said. "I'm quite sure of it."

**# - # - # - # **

It was a breath of fresh air, putting Akemi down for the night. She was a spirited little thing, as Retsu had learned during the time they'd spent together at the institution, curious about everything. In the weeks past, she'd been permitted to take the girl out for a few hours, finding herself irresistibly drawn to the childish mentality that she'd long-since lost. A sad thing, letting go of such innocence, but it seemed a worthy sacrifice so as to be able to defend oneself in the great wide world.

The girl had been even more spirited when they'd arrived home, her bright eyes wide as she went on to explore her new home. Sadly, this was but a trial period, and the final papers wouldn't arrive for another week or so. Still, there had been enough of a smile on the caretaker's face that day to assure her that the adoption would be finalized.

From the time she'd walked in the door, Akemi had inspected everything from the bathroom to the underside of the kitchen sink, finding a rather old and dirty sponge along the way. Retsu had replaced the thing with a small package of crackers, allowing for it to be easily forgotten. From that moment, she had insisted on eating spray cheese with her snack before darting to the couch and grabbing the remote. Watching her, Retsu wasn't even sure if she'd known how to turn on the television at three.

"Movie!" Akemi had cried, her little feet flying off the couch as she pointed to the screen. "Movie!"

Retsu had glanced at the running time of the movie before giving her consent, certain that the hyperactive child would fall asleep an hour before the end even came. In glee, Akemi had jumped from the table to the couch a number of times before she'd allowed herself to fall flat on the cushions, deciding that it would be good fun to craw onto Mayuri's lap and try to yank the keys from his pocket.

He'd just ignored her.

Fortunately, the energy was short-lived, and the spunky toddler soon grew unimpressed with the film's story, assuming, of course, she could even understand it. Akemi hadn't moved hardly at all, having seemed quite content with the warm seat that she'd managed to steal. She'd only ever squealed at the cute characters and asked for "noodles 'n haaaam!"

It should have been elation that filled Retsu's heart, not dread. Only four days had passed since the nightmare had come and gone, and she still wasn't completely over it. A terrifying thing, being followed home by some stranger. On that night, she'd been grateful that Ai no Kesshin hadn't given her a call or sent a letter, for it could have been far worse had there been a child in her care. That, more than anything, would have been a true nightmare.

There was a dull hum, easily accompanied by gentle bursts of light from the screen. Some infomercial, it seemed, having cut into the on-screen giggles that were part of a young child's anime movie. It looked kind of old, she had thought. Old enough to mildly remind her of Doraemon. Well, maybe not. In fact, Retsu was sure she'd seen a preview of the film a couple years earlier. Something about a fish and ham. Maybe that's why Akemi decided she'd wanted some.

She'd fallen asleep an hour earlier, the empty styrofoam cup in her hand and a crayon in her mouth. The eating utensils had likely slipped between the cushions. Retsu had taken the tiny body in her arms, wrapping the girl in a soft blanket before placing her back on the couch.

"You don't like her," Retsu said, locking the door behind her. As if she even needed to say anything. It was understandable, the obvious disdain he held towards children in general. Noisy, irritating, and distracting, as he'd said so bluntly. Still, it was disturbing, not having any bark coming back to match her statement. Usually, that was a given.

She'd waited patiently, slipping into her nightclothes before falling flat on the mattress. Still, the silence lingered, leading Retsu to believe that there was no point in pursuing this further.

Still, even if her world were to collapse, she wouldn't regret anything. Not this little ray of life that had been brought into her life.


	13. Little White Lies

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 13: **Little White Lies

* * *

><p>Retsu rubbed her eyes, cracking them open so as to see the all-too-familiar ceiling of her bedroom staring back at her. It was cold, somehow, despite the slowly vanishing rain that had left that unpleasant mugginess lingering over the city. She'd really expected it to be warmer, as it was the beginning of summer, and the wet season was supposed to have been over. Still, the forecast insisted that there would be yet another storm before the week ended. At least, she would have liked to believe that it wouldn't come; that the newscaster would be wrong.<p>

As if believing in it would make it so. Nature did as it very well pleased.

She slipped out her bedroom door, eyes immediately darting to the tiny figure curled up on her couch. The night before, this sweet little girl had fallen asleep without any trouble at all, her eyes having fluttered and closed several times in the process. There was a distinct buzzing sound that came from the couch all of a sudden, adding to the newly discovered worry that Akemi would wake up before Retsu had enough time to shower and get dressed. Slowly, she fell to her knees and slipped a hand under the cushions, trying not to disturb the couch's occupant. The buzzing grew louder and more frequent, finally subsiding when her fingers closed around the object, pulling it out to find a strange-looking message on the screen.

She'd also found the keys that Akemi had so kindly liberated from Mayuri's pocket.

It seemed that this child had some plan to turn him into her playmate.

The item in Retsu's hand wasn't hers, as the people in her contact list didn't send messages in foreign, cryptic languages. Some of the letters looked vaguely like English, which she was very familiar with, but they looked much blockier, somehow. She could make out what looked like "A's" and "E's," but little else. Unfortunately, the inability to translate made Retsu want to know more.

In regards to controlling her emotions, she was a master. But curiosity was one of those things that made her crack.

After making sure the door and windows were locked, she couldn't be too careful after having been followed home, Retsu slipped back into her room and headed into the bathroom. She could harass Mayuri about the personal contents of his cell later on.

The water came on with a hiss that echoed off the walls, a soothing sound. What with the chilly air, hers was a one-track mind, set solely upon finding comfort through the heated water. She'd barely turned off the faucet when the faint sound of knocking decided to interrupt. She had half a mind to ignore it, but that would be somewhat rude. Even if she, being the owner of the apartment, wasn't obligated in the slightest to open her door to anyone. That, and the visitor could very well be the sort to knock until they woke someone up.

With a sigh, Retsu slipped into her robe, swiftly tying it off as she darted out into the living room, smoothing her hair before undoing the locks. When the door opened, she felt herself go pale, completely shocked to see the woman standing before her.

"That certainly took some time." The woman strode right past her, assessing the apartment as if it were some piece of art. "I take it you were going to ignore me?"

Retsu shook her head, closing the door quietly. Of all the mornings that her mother could have shown up, it had to be this one. The morning that she had been planning to use for far more... personal activities. Noting that those eyes were still on her, she gave her mother a look that said: "Had I known it was you, I would have been here much faster."

What a load that was. Had she known that her mother had been standing there, Retsu would have pretended that she wasn't home. The last thing she needed, after having successfully inserted two very important people into her life, was to have this overbearing woman sticking her fingers into the cookie jar where they didn't belong. And, by the gods, this woman's "help" was certainly not needed.

"You didn't mention a child in your letter," her mother quipped, motioning towards Akemi. "When did this come about?"

Retsu rolled her eyes as she set the coffee pot on. "Yesterday," she said, trying to sound calm. "And I didn't write."

An eyebrow was raised as the woman set her things on a chair. "Really?" A finger was brought to her lip in mock thought. "That's strange, because, while I was visiting your sister last week, I ran across a letter you'd sent her last month. And, in it, you expressed great excitement at the prospect of adopting a child from an agency. I suppose it was just an accident that you failed to inform your mother about another grandchild."

Here she was again. Natsuki, the genius manipulator. Yes, Retsu had "forgotten" to mention it to her mother for this very reason. She always came at the most inopportune of moments, and never bothered to inform her host that she was planning a visit. It was one of the woman's more irritating habits. Aside, of course, from squeezing and manipulating the living hell out of anything that moved.

It was best for Retsu to hold her tongue, as the memory of her mother's betrayal, during her father's last six years of life, had wormed its way into her head, pleading to be released. But that would be her last resort for driving her away. It _would _certainly cause some problems, but her mother had iron skin. She wouldn't allow a little setback, or the mention of her scandalous affair, to keep her from prying as many secrets as possible from her children. It was one thing to hopelessly shame a teenager into admitting guilt, but a grown woman? For shame.

As her mother began chattering about her "lovely visit with Meiko's family," Retsu's mind began to wander. Of course her sister would be brought into this, as she never dared to tell the woman that she was unwelcome, even when her husband's father was dying in agony. But that wasn't any of her business. Suddenly, she remembered the now cooling bath water as well as the other occupant who was present. She prayed to the gods that her mother wouldn't head back into her room to inspect her stylistic tendencies. Otherwise, she'd have a lot of unnecessary explaining to do.

And not just to her mother.

There was a tug on her robe as Akemi, having been awakened by the conversation, decided to lean against her leg, fingers curled into the plush fabric. She yawned, staring up at Retsu with tired eyes that seemed to widen when she spotted a small bag of konpeito candy on top of the refrigerator.

"Candy!" she demanded, bounding to the side of the appliance. "Candy!"

There was a sigh of disbelief from her mother as Retsu handed the beaming child a small handful of candy to keep her quiet for a bit. Were there not an unwanted visitor in her presence, and she used the term loosely, there would have been plenty of time for her to make something appropriate for Akemi to eat.

The impossible woman opened her mouth to speak, but Retsu wasn't about to be chided on how and what to give a child at this time of morning. She could figure it out herself. The candy was, after all, a means of keeping her quiet for a time. Upon turning on the television and encouraging Akemi to show her impossible grandmother all of her drawings, Retsu excused herself and slipped back into her room, locking the door.

Even if it were only fifteen minutes, she needed _some_ time away from the tension.

"Someone's irritable."

First her mother, and now him. It seemed that she'd be doing some explaining after all. The poorly disguised smirk was irrefutable evidence that he'd been listening to everything that had been said. That was one way to make the morning worse than it was.

"Be quiet!" she whispered, hopping on the bed so as to try clamping a hand over his mouth. "If she comes in here, I'll kill you."

"So I'm the 'dirty little secret' now?"

Retsu shot him a warning glare. "Don't come out of here until she's gone. I swear, I will strangle you if she finds out!"

Really, that was the last thing she needed. A barrage of questions in addition to the standoff that would ensue between Mayuri and her mother were they to ever come into contact with one another. Gods forbid that to happen.

Mayuri pouted, staring up at her. "If you're the one to kill me, then how are you ever going to have anymore fun?"

"What the hell is this?"

Retsu flinched visibly, suddenly noticing that she _hadn't _locked the door. Akemi seemed to have fallen against it, pushing it wide open and thus giving her that feeling of weightlessness that one might experience while falling off a roof . Now, it were as if she were dying out of sheer humiliation.

Being a proud woman, her mother wasn't going to accept anything less than the truth.

Akemi hopped out of her grandmother's arms in an instant, hopping across the carpet so as to jump onto the bed and cling to Mayuri as he glowered bitterly at her. Clearly, this child was hopelessly immune to any kind of warning sign, and that made Retsu worry greatly. Were Mayuri to show any sign of being an insane child murderer, she'd wring his neck.

Retsu turned to stare at him, as if he'd have something for her to offer up as an explanation. And, of course, the one time she'd needed one of those stinging remarks, he'd kept quiet.

All she got was a look that said, "Make up your mind. Do you want me to listen, or not?"

"Well?"

_Again _with the condescending tone. She suddenly remembered why she'd left Kyushu in the first place.

**# - # - # - # **

"Why?" He raised his head, staring up at the sky as his cell went off. He'd been far too fatigued to drive himself to work, and, wishing to avoid an accident or a ticket, had opted to take the bus. Now, he'd only been there for seven minutes on the dot when the buzzing object had gotten his attention. The number on the caller ID was one that he'd seen far too much as of late. Even in his sleep, the digits were burned into his retinas. Truly, it seemed that he was at the mercy of this deranged lunatic.

Not much in the mood to talk, Toshiro shut the phone in his pocket, letting it ring as he stared glumly across the street. He almost hoped the bus was late, just so he could walk into the office with something having gone his way.

There was a large shadow that suddenly began hovering over him, the likes of which the captain hadn't been expecting to see just yet based on the forecast. He looked up, half-expecting to see that the newscaster had accidentally predicted "showers on Saturday" rather than Wednesday. Instead, there was a very large, and familiar, man standing there, easily attracting the attention of many passersby.

"C'mere," he growled, easily plucking Toshiro off the bench.

The captain's eyes bulged as the gang boss carried him under his arm, very much like one might do with a newspaper or a book. When he was finally set back on his feet, the man stared down at him, clearly displeased about something.

"I thought you were going to cooperate, Zaraki."

The man laughed heartily. "The fuck told ya that, kid? All I said was that yer a tough little bastard. Never said shit about cooperatin' with you and yer cops. That's a load of shit if I ever heard one."

Toshiro crossed his arms, not at all amused with the man's swearing. He heard quite enough of it from Matsumoto when she was coming off a bad night with Gin. "Then what's this about? In case you have no sense of time and reality, normal citizens, like myself, have schedules and jobs to keep. I don't have time to argue with you."

The captain was abruptly lifted off the ground by his coat, now hovering about four feet above the pavement. He really did prefer to stand, but that didn't seem to be an option.

"I'm makin' you an offer, brat," came the growl. "One of my boys was killed last night. Found him on the wharf with half his guts missin'. Not to mention that the murderous bastard left one of them fuckin' color marks in his hide. And you, being a cop and shit, are gonna find out which fucker offed him." Kenpachi lowered him to the ground again. "When ya do, the guy's as good as dog shit."

That was a shock. All this time, he'd seriously believed Aizen to be the one behind the killings, given his record of inappropriate conduct and assault. But did this, another killing, mean that he was innocent, or was it just another ploy? A means of getting himself out of the hotseat?

_Well, damn..._

"Why the hell would I bother helping gangsters? Last I checked, you and your lot were rather uncooperative in the past, including our search of your wharf a couple months ago. You remember that, don't you?" It was a daring move, back-sassing one of the most feared Yakuza in the city, but Toshiro was looking forward to the man countering with some kind of deal.

He wasn't a gambler in any sense of the word, but he just hoped he'd played his cards right.

"Fine. You'll get your fuckin' cooperation. We'll even help ya find the fucker. Got eyes 'n ears all over this town, and there ain't hardly nothin' that gets by me."

Toshiro nodded. "You'll do your part to find this killer, and you get the pleasure of ending his fun. But, in no way, do you have the right to beat or kill him. If you do, I'll have you hunted and eliminated. This case has far more riding on it than your pitiful vindication. The families of the victims have the _right _to know who this man is, and I will not have you screw it up." His eyes narrowed as he was lowered to the ground. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Bastard," Kenpachi scoffed, turning his back on the boy. "Count yerself lucky that it was my man that he killed. If it were anyone else, you cops wouldn't get shit outta us."

Of course not. Kenpachi Zaraki was a prideful man, and certainly not one to be trifled with. Toshiro supposed it was just dumb luck that had gotten him this far. If not, then maybe what the man had said during their last encounter had been true: Maybe the captain _was _a tough little bastard.

# - # - # - #

"So you were trying to lie to me?"

"If I had been trying to lie, then I would have come up with an excuse! And what business is it of yours as to what I do with my life?"

Gods, it was so damn noisy. Who the hell _was _this woman? Stupid question, really. Even if it were just a thought. She was the impossibly overbearing mother of the woman he'd found himself falling over as of late. Not exactly a welcome start to the day. Not even close.

They were barking at each other now, rather reminiscent of a pair of wild dogs, fighting for dominance. The old bitch and her pup, more than pleased to off the other so as to regain control. Still, it all sounded like a bad reality show, exploring the curious relationship between a mother and her child. It was just dumb luck that he'd said to hell with that sort of complication.

It didn't last long, though, their war. Retsu had, far too easily, chased the intruder right out of her territory, insisting that she not come back for anything. Good thing, too. It would be rather impossible to get anything done with that kind of nuisance lingering in the background. For all he knew, the woman was the vindictive type who would go to hell and back just to bring an end to any kind of joy her daughter was experiencing.

It really sounded a lot like one of those American movies, the name of which Mayuri couldn't be bothered to remember.

"She's impossible!"

Of course, she was. Funny how Retsu had had to engage the woman in a verbal warfare before figuring that out.

"Annoying fits much better," he commented, watching the witless little brat roll around on the floor. "And she came all the way from Kyushu to nag the hell out of you? Pleasant."

Retsu simply rolled her eyes, instructing Akemi to go and eat the breakfast that was laid out for her on the kitchen table. "You talk as if you already know her."

"Don't have to. She's noisy, and that's all I need to make my assessment."

It was far easier now that it had grown quiet again. The only sound that could be heard was the brat as she sat at the table and talked to herself. But even that was faint. There was just a quiet rustling, the mattress sinking slightly as Retsu moved away. It wasn't a bother. It wasn't any fun dealing with her when she was like this. She couldn't be persuaded to do anything, anyway.

She moved again, closer this time. "What's this?"

Mayuri didn't want to, but he opened his eyes and stared at the blinking message that was now in his face. It took a moment to register what the screen said, as it was way too close. But, the second it all clicked, he'd swept the thing out of her hand, somehow leading Retsu to believe that it was a game of keep away.

"Now who's keeping secrets?" she laughed, referencing his earlier comment. "Got something on there you don't want me to see?"

First of all, what the hell did she think he was, a lech? As if he'd even given a damn about something real before she'd shown up. And second...

"Why do you care? You can't even read the damn thing."

"So tell me what it says."

"Even if I did, you wouldn't understand anything, so just stay out of it."

Gods, this really was the worst time for this to come up. First the intruding old woman, and now all this crap. And that was excluding the fact that he'd be working overtime on the investigation for that puny little captain. It seemed that he really was surrounded by idiots. And soon, there'd be another one seated at the very same table.


	14. Raise A Glass And Toast This Flame

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 14: **Raise A Glass And Toast This Flame

* * *

><p>"Oh, come on! Don't act like you two <em>aren't<em> an item. I mean, everyone in class can see it."

Amaya was far too nosy for her own good. It explained why she kept getting in trouble, though. Both at school and at home. Everything she heard had to be some kind of big secret or conspiracy. It was just who she was. Now that she'd brought it up, the other two girls had their eyes on her, wide smiles on their faces. Yes, it was fun to be able to share personal things with friends, but this was something that Nemu would much rather keep to herself.

It wouldn't do if her friends went around telling people at school about this.

She looked away from their lingering gazes, suddenly finding her cheeks to be rather warm. They'd caught her red-handed, having see the way she'd smiled at Uryu as he had walked past them moments before. She didn't really mind that her friends knew, but the way they liked to speculate sometimes got a bit out of hand.

"You had a _date_!" Haruki quipped, eyes wide as she dropped her school bag on the ground. She was grinning now, looking very much like an overly-excited cartoon character. "Oooh! Give us details!"

Etsuko and Amaya chattered in agreement, easily grabbing her by the arm and pulling her into the nearest fast-food restaurant. When they were seated, Haruki squeaked, turning Nemu to face the window. Uryu was now across the street, staring at them with a half-smile that seemed to be for her.

Yes, she'd had a date. A few, to be honest. Though, she wasn't about to make that known.

As the three girls continued giggling among themselves, she was given a few minutes to speculate on the matter.

Had she wanted anything to do with him three months earlier, it would have been out of the question with no room for a discussion. That's just how things had been before all the change. She had her opinion now, and it pertained to the fact that, somehow, her former tutor had managed to insert herself into whatever affections her father had left. A funny thing, really. She couldn't even remember a time when he'd been particularly warm towards her mother.

Funny, and a little sad that he seemed to be taken with this woman.

She wondered if Retsu had made mention of her wish, as it had suddenly been granted a few weeks earlier. Though, Nemu had always assumed that a part of her father's disdain for Uryu had been due to the ruckus he'd caused before his grandfather's body had been laid to rest. Of course, he'd never been too fond of Ryuken Ishida, as he'd caused his fair share of problems as well.

Still, she didn't hold any malice.

"I guess it's okay, but I don't see why it would all change."

Someone was tapping their fingers on the table now. "Same here. I mean, it's just so weird. Every time I've seen him, he's poking around inside some corpse."

"Oh, please. How would you even know that, Etsuko?" Amaya's voice quipped.

"Uh, did you forget already? My dad's a cop on the case, genius. I go down to the station all the time, so of course I know what's going on." An elbow nudged her. "What about you, Nemu? Care to explain why your dad's been ignoring Captain Hitsugaya?"

She turned, oblivious to what her friends had been talking about. First, it had been all about her dating Uryu Ishida, and now it had gone to her father's sudden change in character. At least, that's what they all seemed to think. To her, he hadn't really changed all that much. Now, he just had something else to occupy his time. Some_one, _actually_._ A very interesting someone, from what she could tell.

"Well?"

All she offered up was a shrug and a smile. "It's not really my place to say." She just didn't want to talk about it. "I don't even know if that's what's going on. He's still gone most of the time. I don't really mind it much, though."

Haruki sighed as she returned to the table with their food. "How can you not mind? If my dad was gone all the time, I'd get pretty pissed off. Besides, isn't he involved with that doctor from the University?"

That's right. Retsu _was _a doctor. In all the time they'd spent studying and conversing, Nemu had completely forgotten about what she did for a living. The woman was a pediatrician, if she had her facts straight. But why? Nemu enjoyed the company of little kids as much as the next person, but it seemed that Retsu got a lot more out of spending her time with them than anyone else she knew. Why was that?

"The really pretty one with dark hair?" Etsuko asked. "I think she's the one my little brother fakes sick so he can visit. He's always talking about her when he comes home. Says she's 'the best,' or something. But who knows? Little kids always think that someones 'the best.'"

That was true, but Nemu had to agree with Etsuko's brother. For whatever reason, Retsu really was the best.

Amaya's eyes widened as she slammed her hands on the table. "I think you're right!" she said, referencing Haruki's statement. "Now that I think about it, my cousin said he saw her at that charity event last month. And that, when they got rained on, he saw her leave with someone." A smug smile was on her face now. "_Hint, hint._"

_Oh, gods..._

"Aw, don't be shy," Haruki teased, waving her straw around. "I mean, how do you think you got here?"

Etsuko leaned over the side of the table, coughing and laughing as she struggled for breath. "Don't _even _joke about that, Haruki."

The smile on the brunette's face subsided, and she sat back in her seat, pouting.

"I don't want to talk about this," Nemu said, turning to see that Uryu had gone. "Besides, if Mom's okay with it, then..." A stunned silence hung in the air, all eyes suddenly on her. "What?"

Her friends stared at one another before Amaya piped up: "Y-You just called her _mom_."

There was nothing now. "Hmm. I guess I did."

**# - # - # - #**

It felt very much like a ghost chase, as if they were after someone that didn't even exist. From what he'd seen in the tabloids, about half the city believed that this killer was a deity, come to punish their nation for vanity and wickedness. The other half believably argued that their "demon" was just a man with some kind of complex, likely the sort who garnered money or perhaps pleasure from lifting lives away from human skin.

Toshiro wasn't the sort who'd deny the existence of the gods, but he didn't feel that this was divine retribution. It was just some psycho playing mind games with the citizens.

"Where was Madarame from?" he said, pen hovering above the page.

The man shrugged, arms folded across his broad chest. "Don't hold me to it, but I think he mentioned quittin' school when he was in Ikebukuro. Hell, I don't even know if I heard the kid right. It's none of my concern where these punks come from. All I want are some damn good fighters."

"Yes," Toshiro said quietly, staring at the little girl on the other side of the room. "I can only imagine why..."

Frankly, the child Kenpachi had brought along was making him very nervous. She'd tried digging through his desk at one point, only to suddenly busy herself with the snow globe that she'd spotted across the room. The one Karin had given him for his last birthday. She'd had it custom made, even engraved with his name, a little blue dragon figure pressed against the inside of the glass dome, easily making it look like the beast were soaring through a hailstorm when the flakes fell. He was quite worried that this seemingly clumsy child would break it.

The captain tapped on the desk, easily drawing the gang boss' attention before pointing to the girl. "If you would..." he said, trying to sound calm.

"'Chiru!" the man barked, beckoning the girl to his side.

She darted back across the room, snow globe still in hand before she tripped over her own feet, sending it flying. Toshiro gasped, launching himself over the desk by using the chair as a springboard, catching the item before it crashed to the floor. There was a hearty laugh from the gangster as Toshiro climbed to his feet, placing the gift on a filing cabinet before returning to his seat.

"Nice catch!"

Toshiro ignored him. "Now, then," he said, getting back to business. "Did he have any notable enemies?"

"The fuck kinda question is that?" Kenpachi howled. "We're like the mafia, kiddo. Lots of enemies, and on every corner of the street, to boot. Still, no fuckers come to mind. 'Sides, that boy was one hell of a fighter. Threw my best men at him when he first showed up, and the bastard offed 'em all 'fore ya could even blink."

As pleasant a thought as that was, it didn't answer the question.

"Then that's a 'no?'"

The man nodded. "Damn straight."

The phone on his desk began blaring, the light flashing which made the girl's eyes widen with glee. Before she could lay a hand on it, Toshiro swept it off the base, pressing it to his ear.

"Go ahead," he said. He nodded a few times, making mental note of the report. "Yes, I see. Be sure to record everything with accuracy. I'll be there soon."

As he hung up the phone, the child began tugging at the cord, against warnings from her guardian.

"Well?"

The captain scowled, shoving the papers back into the filing folder. "I'd say that we could finish this later, but it seems we've found our killer." Toshiro readjusted his tie, feeling quite pleased with himself. "Right here in Bunkyo, to boot."

# - # - # - #

"Really, Retsu," Nanao chided, shaking her head, "you can't blame your mother for being worried. Even _I'm _not sure I support this yet."

That was just fine. After all, Retsu had made her decision, and she was quite content to live with it. Besides, she couldn't really find any reason for her to call it off, especially with all that had already happened. Were she to do so, it was guaranteed that Akemi would cry her little eyes out. She'd come to be quite fond of Mayuri over the last couple of weeks, even if he wasn't around long enough for her to torment him.

"As I've said before, I'm perfectly happy living this way. Even if it means that my mother isn't involved." She thought for a moment, handing the woman behind the counter some envelopes to be mailed. "Actually, I quite prefer it that way. She prides herself on manipulating the situation to her advantage. I hate to say it, but it worked that way even when Meiko and I were children. I love her, but it's a miracle I survived in her house until I graduated."

Nanao sighed, seemingly in response to the music that was coming from her purse. She had glanced at the screen several times that day, only to throw the phone back into her bag without so much as a word. Clearly, Shunsui had done something wrong. _Again._

"Don't misunderstand me, Retsu. I'm on your side, really. But I don't think that this is the best thing for you. Think about it. You've just adopted Akemi, and now you're rushing into this? Honestly, I don't claim to know anything about him, and I don't think that anyone, save you, has dared to get close enough to figure him out. But what I do know is that he's garnered a bit of a reputation as being a bit... unhinged."

Please, she'd heard those stories before. Wild things, much like rumors, that had started up based on the dedication Mayuri devoted to his work. Yes, it was a bit strange for him to prefer the company of the deceased to that of the living, but Retsu wouldn't go so far as to say that he was unhinged. Perhaps a bit anti-social.

"Just think about all the things people will be saying about you if this goes any further! I'm only asking you to reconsider it from a different standpoint."

Nanao meant well, but she'd gone far beyond what Retsu would call advice. Besides, of all the eight million people in Tokyo, it was highly unlikely that more than a handful had any insight as to who was working with the police on the Irooni murder investigations. And, even if they did, the majority was sure not to care. After all, who actually had the time to sincerely worry and care about the affairs of others in addition to that of their own and their loved ones?

Still, there was one thing that had bothered her. Since the morning that she'd successfully chased her mother away, Retsu had yet to find out exactly what Mayuri had been so desperate to hide. It had been some foreign message, to be sure, but the significance of said message was still in question. And that left it as something to be desired.

Her eyes widened with a start as her own purse began to sing, the screen presenting a number that she didn't recognize in the slightest. Still she answered with a prompt greeting, suddenly caught off guard as the woman on the other end began speaking English in a heavy accent, regarding Retsu as "darling."

"Where are you?" the woman inquired, sounding quite worried. "Did you not get my messages, darling? I told you that my plane would be coming in today, and you said that you'd be here."

Retsu turned to Nanao, staring incredulously at the woman as she covered the phone. "Do you know this number?" she whispered, presenting the screen to her friend. "I have no idea who this woman is!"

A shake of the head was all she needed to see. "Not at all. But... I don't think that's a local number. Just look at it."

Amidst the confusion and the noise coming from her phone, neither Retsu nor Nanao caught sight of the man who had sidled up to them, spinning the latter around before receiving a slap across the face. There wasn't really time for her to watch, but Retsu could see that Shunsui was in for it again. His remorse only ever lasted about an hour or so, and then he was back to being himself. Upon being rejected for the billionth time, he began whining, pleading with Retsu to fix his problems again. She glowered at the man, easily pushing him away as she tried to discern where her mystery caller was from.

It couldn't have been anyplace she'd visited before, but her accent still sounded very familiar.

There was a loud shout of "Mommy!" which made Retsu turn just in time for Akemi to fly into her arms, easily sending the phone out of her hand.

She winced as the little girl began explaining what fun she'd had that day, half-expecting to hear the item crash against the pavement. Instead, she found herself listening to harsh tones that, upon looking, were in response to the woman who had called her. It wasn't shocking that Nanao had distanced herself, dragging Shunsui along with her. She had all but said that she was rather uncomfortable when Mayuri stepped in.

"Mind telling me how I ended up with this?" he said, looking positively pissed off.

There was a bit of shock as the phone was placed back into her hand. She stared incredulously at the folded piece of plastic, curious as to how she hadn't noticed that she'd had his phone for the last three days. The two objects weren't even the same model, for crying out loud. The only way she could have ended up with his was courtesy of one of Akemi's favorite games: Taking "Mayurin's" things away.

"So who is she?" Retsu asked, ignoring the question. She knew better than to make him believe that she suspected him of something so low, but, if she were going to learn the truth, there wasn't much wrong with having some fun beforehand. "Someone I should know about?"

_So mean_, something whispered in her head. But it was easily shooed away by her justification: _Mean, but very funny._

"Oh, _hell_," he muttered, pushing Akemi's hand away from his face. "She called?"

Ah, so there _was_ a she.

"I see. So _that's _what's going on here," Retsu said, trying to sound offended. The incredulous way he stared at her was just too much. "Don't look at me like that. I was only teasing. But really, who was that?"

"Nobody you need to know about..."

There was something very familiar about the way he was behaving. Distant, nervous, irritated... Not that he didn't act that way on a regular basis, but this was way above normal. She'd ask a serious question, and Mayuri would either blow it off or give her an answer that didn't pertain to the subject. In this case, he'd actually given her a straight answer.

Akemi started chattering, making it difficult for Retsu to continue thinking. It wasn't easy trying to balance a squirming three-year-old at the moment. As if having picked up on her discomfort, the child was lifted out of her arms, suddenly appeased by the jingling sound of keys being placed in her little hands. Akemi's green eyes widened, deciding that now was an appropriate time to ignore what Mayuri had told her about keeping quiet.

It was then that he'd sent her to bother Nanao.

"What did she tell you?"

Retsu shook her head and shrugged. "Nothing. I don't even know who she is, let alone what she was talking about. Still..." A pause. "She said something about her plane coming in today."

"God..."

Well, this was surprising. "You didn't know about this...?"

"Ridiculous!" a voice said from over her shoulder.

Retsu turned on her heel, completely shocked to see that an unfamiliar woman now had Akemi in her arms. The woman, likely in her fifties, was beaming despite the strange way people were staring at her as they passed by. Behind her, sat a cab, the driver's laughter easily heard from behind the closed doors and rolled up windows. This _must _have been the woman who had made the call. The one who had made mention of her plane arriving in Tokyo. Every nerve insisted that she take her child back, but Retsu didn't sense any hostility from this woman at all.

In fact, she seemed rather warm.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"Don't be rude!" Retsu hissed, jabbing Mayuri in the side.

_She's Russian!_ a voice screamed inside her head. _But... how do I know that?_

The woman laughed, handing Akemi back to her Retsu. "I see nothing's changed between us," she said, ignoring the distasteful way he glowered at her. The way she spoke confirmed the frighteningly accurate voice in Retsu's mind. "But is this really any way to welcome your mother?"

Nanao jumped in at that moment, completely forgetting about Shunsui as she stared with with wide eyes, shouting in unison with Retsu: "_Your mother?"_

"Do you _have _to say it so loud...?"


	15. You Will Know

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the _Bleach_ characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 15: **You Will Know

* * *

><p>"Get the fuck off me!"<p>

The captain stared down at the cuffed man, shaking his head. It should have been obvious from the get-go that this character was, somehow, involved. The man had a reputation for posing a problem to both the police and the Yakuza, namely the Yakusoku Gang. Although Toshiro hadn't seen his face or heard his name in quite a while, it was still rather foolish that this man had slipped his mind.

He had a feeling that, when the chief found out, he'd be in hot water.

Now, he would have no choice but to release Gin and clear him of all charges. Aizen, on the other hand, was still on the hook for his crimes.

There was a roar as the man broke away from the officers who had pinned him to the wall, lunging at Toshiro. The captain ducked and rolled, giving the criminal a good kick in the ass that sent him to the ground.

"Don't make this any harder than it needs to be, Nnoitra," he chided, brushing the dirt off his clothes. "You may not believe it, but I'm not really too keen on shooting people. I am, however, an excellent shot."

The man growled and spat in the boy's direction. "What the hell's this about?" he hissed, glowering up at the officer. "I've got rights, you know! Now, spit it out!"

"Yes," he agreed. "You _do _have rights. For example..." Toshiro motioned for his men to escort the vulgar to the patrol car. "You have the right to remain silent. But I'm sure you already knew that."

Tachibana rushed to the captain's side, insisting that he come to look at the victim. Toshiro complied, breath catching in his throat as a street vendor approached him with a chuckle.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Shiro!" the man laughed, slapping the boy on the shoulder. He was quiet for a moment, staring at the crime scene. "My, this is a nasty sight. Such a shame that you have to deal with something so grim on such a fine day. Am I right?"

Blue eyes stared up at the sky, shaking his head at the man. "A shame, yes, but the day's not quite as nice as I would have hoped." Many of his officers were now setting up the bright yellow tape, causing him to wonder just how the vendor had gotten past them. "Mr. Urahara, this is a crime scene."

Kisuke smirked, waving his hand about as he began to hum. "Yes, I can see that. Horrible thing, crime. It's a miracle that people can live with themselves after doing such dreadful things."

Oh, yes, like this laughable man had any room to say that. Toshiro knew quite well how Kisuke Urahara made his living: Selling goods on the streets around the city, sometimes garnering far more attention than he needed. There were many rumors about him, but the most interesting stated that one of Urahara's sales associates had ordered and sold a specific kind of drug to Sosuke Aizen. The kind that the monster used for his peculiar "hobby."

Sadly, he had no proof.

"Be that as it may, you have no reason, nor license, to be here." The captain narrowed his eyes. "I'll have to ask you to leave."

"Of course." The vendor grinned, taking several steps back, his eyes still on the the youth. "By the way... You haven't seen Retsu Unohana lately, have you?"

_What?_

"It's nothing too serious, but I've heard tell that she's struck quite the chord among one of the members of your investigation team. Pretty unusual, given the way things have played out. But," Kisuke raised a hand, "as Shakespeare said: 'All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players.' Still, please don't work yourself too hard, Captain. It wouldn't do if something happened to you before this case was closed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Another light-hearted laugh. "Oh, don't worry too much about it. When everything works itself out, I'm sure you'll know."

As the man trudged away, Toshiro couldn't help feeling a bit uneasy. Kisuke wasn't on par with the criminals in the city, but he still had his secrets. Secrets that the young captain didn't feel very good about.

"Captain Hitsugaya." He turned, remembering what he'd been doing before being interrupted. "Over here, sir."

Hands were shoved into pockets as Toshiro closed his eyes, trying to digest what he had seen. It really was terrible, seeing this kind of thing day after day. It was a wonder he was able to sleep at night, with all these images boiling inside his head. Perhaps he was comfortable with it because of the things he'd seen before joining the Force. It would make sense, he supposed.

At least, that's what he wanted to believe.

This time was a child, no older than eleven. A sad thing, imagining the torment this boy had gone through. He was on his back, eyes wide, mouth agape, little flecks of blood taking away from the innocence of his face. The shirt he wore, white with a film logo, was stained through, making it easy to see where the damage had been done. The poor boy had been carved up like an animal.

It was almost enough to make the youth crack.

In the background, restrained by two officers, was the mother, howling over the loss of her child. Toshiro bowed his head as the camera flashed, capturing the scene before the green light was given for the body to be moved.

He wouldn't allow the body count to continue climbing. It was just unacceptable. Even if it killed him, he wouldn't stop the search until everything fell into place. As he swore this, the captain climbed back into the car, trembling. For now, he had an autopsy to schedule. There was no time for vindictive, bitter thoughts.

Still, the street vendor's words echoed in his skull.

"_You will know."_

**# - # - # - #  
><strong>

To be blunt, Retsu was still shocked. She hadn't even fathomed that something like this would come up. And only a few weeks after her own mother had so kindly inserted herself into her daughter's affairs. That had been irritating, but this... Well, this was nothing short of hysterical.

She could see the shock and glee on Nanao's face as she turned away, taking shuddering breaths before excusing herself and running off, dragging Shunsui behind.

To be sure, Nanao would be having a field day with this information.

"Larisa Alkaev," the woman stated with a smile. "Pleasure."

Mayuri looked positively horrified.

Retsu could only nod, eyes seeking out Akemi's form on the sidewalk before beckoning her child back to her side. Students were on their way home from school at this hour, and she didn't want to lose her. Especially not with this going on. Missing out wouldn't be a big deal for Akemi, but for her, it would be a real shame.

"You must be Kanra."

"What?" Retsu was taken aback, registering the name. She must have been talking about Nemu's mother. _Oh... _She turned, noting that Mayuri had slapped a hand over his eyes, as if to avoid staring headlong at the onslaught of, what he would call, insanity. Hurriedly, she shook her head. "I'm sorry, but no. I'm not Kanra."

Her eyes widened slightly. "I'm afraid I don't understand." She looked to Mayuri who seemed quite content with ignoring her.

Retsu nudged him again. "Don't make me tell you again," she said, feeling very motherly. Honestly, he was behaving like a child! "Explain it to her!"

"I would if it were any of her business."

_Stubborn man!_ Retsu thought angrily. She glanced around, noting the number of people who slipped past them on their way home from school or work. Maybe this really wasn't the right place. _Maybe..._

"We should go?" Larisa suggested, suddenly looking as though she felt out-of-place. "It has been quite a long time since I was last here, and I'm sure that this isn't the most comfortable place to discuss such important things."

"Carry me!" came a tiny voice from the ground. "Carry meee!"

Retsu glanced down, surprised to see that Akemi was tugging impatiently on Mayuri's hand, staring up at him with pleading eyes. Even more shocking was the fact that he actually listened to her without a complaint.

"D-Did you two... _walk _here?" she stammered.

He nodded, pushing the child's hands away from his face.

"Wh-What about Nemu?"

Mayuri shrugged, Akemi's little head resting on his shoulder. "She knows her way home."

# - # - # - #

Nemu had seen faces after leaving her friends at the restaurant. Not faces on the street, but those that she'd seen a while ago. Faces that had buried themselves in the back of her mind. Even now, so long in the aftermath, they were still whispering to one another, insisting that something was "not right" with the quiet child.

"_Don't you think it's strange," _the face of an old teacher said, _"that they're still in the house where her mother died? Who could live in such a place."_

There was ice each time the voices came, her mind freezing over with fear and humiliation. _It's not your business... Please, just go away._

It often took some time before they paid any attention to her pleas, but they always seemed to vanish into nothing the instant she walked through that door. It was a good question, really. Why _had _they stayed in Karakura? Maybe it would have been best to just... No, that wouldn't have done anything. She always grew somewhat anxious when she was away for too long, so leaving wouldn't have calmed her nerves at all.

She just needed something to hold onto.

It was like a dream, wandering the floors, going about with her daily tasks. While in the kitchen, she passed by Retsu and her grandmother, whom she'd met only once as a child, not bothering to interfere in their conversation. When she left them behind, Nemu couldn't even remember what they'd sounded like, laughing together. Maybe it was because she felt so numb.

"_You can't deny that there's _something _going on."_

That's what Haruki had said before she'd gone, and now, she wondered if it was true. All her friends thought so, but that didn't really mean too much. After all, people did like to speculate. Still, it was one thing to be speculating about celebrities or people in the city, but something else to be personally involved. Maybe that was why it bothered her so much: She knew of all the possibilities that could have brought this kind of thing about.

It couldn't be denied that there seemed to be something going on, but there was still the clincher that was missing.

It was funny. For the longest time, she'd just wanted someone she could rely on; someone to talk to. Now that she'd found that person, all that was left in her heart was the desire to understand this. Most kids wouldn't have a hard time talking to their parents about things like this, things that weren't really any of their business. But she was different. She didn't have that kind of parent-child relationship with him.

So how could she ask?

Even if it wasn't her business, Nemu still felt that it would, somehow, end up affecting her. If it hadn't already. Her mind wasn't clear enough to know just yet.

Was wanting to know really reason enough for her to insert herself into their affairs? What did it matter if there was something between them? If there were plans? So what if she ended up having the family she'd dreamed of as a child?

_She'll be the replacement_, something told her. _Do you want a replacement, someone to wipe the slate clean, or do you want to _keep _the memories you have of her?_

Nemu had no idea, but she needed to. If it was wrong of her to ask, let alone wonder, then why did she come in here and decide to pipe up in the first place? It wasn't as if she could rewind time and take her words back after they came out.

"I... have a question."

He didn't seem too bothered, really. More like bored, just staring at the computer screen, probably sifting through email or sending out reports that were long-past due. Even so, it was still rather uncomfortable for her to be standing there, wishing she'd kept quiet. Now, he was just waiting for it. It seemed that he wasn't going to say anything.

Now that she'd broken the silence, she wanted to say something, but it was just too difficult to think with that scent in the air. Yes, the windows were open, sending cross-ventilation throughout the house, but the smoke was still hurling itself at her. It made her wonder when he'd picked up such a habit. Great, now she had something else to consider, and it was like digging through bedrock, searching for the answer. In the memories she'd retained, Nemu couldn't remember having even seen a cigarette while her mother had been here, so...

After her death, maybe?

"People have been talking, but..." _It doesn't mean you have to!_ _Please, just be quiet... _"...I want to know for myself. Is Retsu..."

Her father was watching her, but he didn't seem too terribly interested. Of course not. He never was. Never had been, really. And still it bothered her.

The rest of it just came out, no warning sign attached: "Is she going to take my mother's place?"

Oh, _now _there were tears. But where was the point in them? They'd never done much in the past, except when she'd been around three or four. Even then, most of what he'd done to calm her had been due to her mother's gentle prodding. At least, that was how she remembered it.

There was a disinterested sigh. It was troubling, but at least he'd listened. "Can't we discuss something that's actually your business?"

She had half a mind to turn away, but something stopped her.

_No! _it shouted. _Don't you _dare _walk out on this! _You're _the one who brought this up; _you're _the one with the questions; _you're _the one who doesn't know how to answer the "why!" Who cares what everyone else thinks? If you're going to do it, then don't do it for them! Do it for _yourself!

Nemu stomped her foot, feeling her face redden with frustration. "But it _is_ my business!" she shot back. "If I have to forget about my mother, to accept someone else and pretend that she was never here, then... then... I don't want Retsu to stay!"

There it was: The complete loss for words staring right at her. There was no anger, as she'd feared before, but complete shock, serving to empower her further. Truth be told, she'd never been afraid of him at all. Nothing had ever happened to make her live in fear. Rather, it seemed that, because he was always gone, she'd just decided that she was on her own. It had been that way since she had started middle school.

It felt good, knowing that she was coming into her own right, learning to think and act for herself rather than relying upon someone who was too caught up in other things.

Yes, it mattered to her that he was still operating as a part of the Irooni case, but that was only because that very same killer had stolen her mother away, leaving her in a sorry state for so long. After her mother's death, Nemu had been afraid that something would take him from her, too, leaving nothing but her empty little shell. But no more. This would be the end of her timid, fearful nature

There was a sound from the kitchen, followed by footsteps that seemed to draw nearer. Yes, she'd been loud; yes, she was upset; yes, she'd acted like a child. Yet, she didn't care. Why should she be forced into silence, to cast aside memories of her mother, just because he couldn't handle it?

In his mind, it may have seemed noble, trying to tamper with the glass for her sake, but she wasn't ready to let the picture break.

"What happened?"

Retsu was behind her now, standing in the doorway with her grandmother. But, by the look on her face, it seemed that she'd heard that last part. It didn't matter if she was hurt by it, or if she decided to leave. Right now, driving her away was the most welcoming thought Nemu had found all day.

"Nothing. It's not important." Of course he'd say that...

There was quiet whispering as the two women walked out, leaving Nemu with that helpless feeling again. Why couldn't things mean anything to him?

"It's never important," she whispered, nudging the door closed. "Unless it pertains to work, it's not important. It's just in the way. That's what you're saying, right?"

"That's..."

"Right?" Nemu finished. "I thought so..."

"No, it's stupid." Now, everything he'd been doing was being ignored, eyes set on her. That was a start... "Fine. You win." He leaned back in the chair, turning to stare listlessly at the ceiling. "What the hell do you want to know?"

Nemu didn't believe this. She'd never really had an in-depth conversation with him, let alone said enough to guilt him into anything. But, for all she knew, he was just giving in so she'd leave. Still, her myriad of accidental tactics had worked some kind of bizarre miracle.

"There's a line that shouldn't be crossed..." Yes, she knew what that line was: Retsu would be staying unless she decided to leave. "...but, if it's about your mother..." Another sigh. "...you'll know."

* * *

><p>Originally, this was supposed to end two paragraphs earlier.<p> 


	16. Swift And Spotlit

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the _Bleach_ characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 16: **Swift And Spotlit

**A/N: **Some of the details are, yes, somewhat vague. Things will, however, be cleared up.

* * *

><p>It had grown late, but their lengthy conversation had finally ended. Nemu had strode quickly out of the study and gone back to her room around eight. That had been about an hour after Retsu had heard what the girl had said. It was understandable for her to be frightened, to not want a replacement in her life, so she wouldn't force herself on the girl. Shortly after, Toshiro had called to bark at Mayuri about not being present when urgent messages were sent out. Had the boy not been screaming into the phone, Retsu wouldn't have even known it was him.<p>

She really needed to have a talk with him in regards to controlling his temper.

Moments after the call, Mayuri had walked right out the door without a word. Retsu highly doubted that harsh words from the police captain had been his motivation. He really didn't care too much about what the boy thought of him. Rather, it seemed to have more to do with completely distancing himself from his mother.

It was around eleven now, and she was on her own in the front room, barely paying any attention to the program on the screen. Her focus was elsewhere, set upon the things she'd absorbed. It was a wonder, how she'd been able to retain that much information. It had nothing to do with her, and yet she could feel herself slowly breaking. She'd expected to feel the ache, but it was like someone had doused her with aerosol spray, suffocating her.

She looked down at the sleepy little body on her lap, easily wrapped up in a blanket. Much thanks to another movie, Akemi had fallen asleep with ease, restful breaths escaping her.

Again, she was stuck on the content of the conversation, not knowing what to think.

When Larisa had said that the news of Kanra's death had never reached her, Retsu was nothing short of shocked.

It was one of those things she couldn't understand, no matter how many times she played it back in her head. How could she _not _have known about Kanra's death? Hadn't there been any communication during the last ten years? How could Mayuri have kept something like this from her? It all felt so very wrong. Now, Retsu felt that she had just found herself in the middle of some dark secret that hadn't seen the light of day in far too long.

Not knowing what to do, it was somewhat frightening.

"I know how this must look," she recalled the woman saying. "You must think I've done something horrid to deserve being ostracized by my own son."

That hadn't crossed her mind at all. Even had she wanted to, passing "judgment" upon people just wasn't her thing. From what she'd gathered, this woman was impossibly kind and willing to reach out. The polar opposite of her own mother. Frankly, she hadn't known what to think of her.

She had gone on to explain that things had been peaceful for a while. That things had changed far too suddenly for her own liking. That she hadn't known why it had happened. But that only raised more questions.

_Why _it had happened. Did that mean she knew how this had happened? Had it been an accident, a mistake?

She looked down at her girl, clutching her plush fish, Mr. Yama. If something were to happen, if Mayuri were to suddenly disappear from their lives, Akemi would be heartbroken.

And not just her.

The stories had been those of a typical boy, too inquisitive for his own good. Not normal, but not too different, either. Interested in everything any anything that caught his eye. Even going so far as to bring home stray and wounded animals, insisting that they be healed or live in the yard. Then, they would come home dead.

Disturbing at first, but the clarification had come quickly: He'd wanted to bury them, much like any six-year-old with an innocent heart.

"We buried a little dog once," his mother had said. "I think... I think Rin cried."

Just as she had during the talk, Retsu was staring at the floor. Two things had shot through her head at the time. One, she couldn't imagine Mayuri exhibiting more than three emotions: Interest, irritation, and disbelief. Two... she couldn't see him putting up with a name other than his own. He even hated how Akemi called him "Mayurin."

It had only gotten worse from there.

"I had a daughter," she had said, "purely by accident, as much as it pains me to say. Still, when her father prepared to leave, I wouldn't let him take her away. He had plans to sell her so as to pay off a debt. I had made one mistake already, staying with him, and I wasn't going to let him steal her. It took weeks, but when we escaped him, I named her Anoushka, meaning 'grace.' It was, after all, by the grace of God that I was able to save her."

Gut-wrenching, the thought of selling a child in exchange for the forgiveness of another sin. Simply shameful.

Larisa had gone to sleep some time earlier, but it were as if Retsu were still facing her, listening. Eyes were glazed over, seemingly haunted by some ghoulish nightmare.

The words were now a constant echo in her head:

"She was seven when I arranged for us to come here. We were headed for America, hoping for safety from those who sought to do us harm. I greatly overestimated the finances, and ended up working in exchange for meals and a place to stay." There had been a bittersweet smile. "But it was here, working for our landlady, that I found Yuta."

It had all stopped shortly after that statement. A very light explanation of Anoushka's firm relationship with her brother, following her disappearance after he'd turned eight. She'd never been found.

Then it came, abruptly ending with:

"Yuta was always gone, working at various sites across the country. After a while... Rin grew to hate him."

She was startled when the door closed, incriminating words following swiftly. With Akemi sprawled out on her lap, Retsu had no chance of getting up without waking her. Instead, she watched the clock, shocked that she'd been sitting there for well over an hour. Her eyes moved, catching Mayuri as he peered into the room, looking particularly bothered.

"You'll stay?"

A question rather than a statement. Perhaps it would be a good idea to start looking for more people who bothered him. He seemed surprisingly mellowed out with all the extra, unwanted, attention.

"Find a place for her, and I will."

She'd expected more resistance, starting with some unknown number of reasons as to why he wanted nothing to do with the child who loved him so. Instead, he lifted her off the couch without a word, seemingly shocked when her little hands began clinging to his shirt.

"You put her down," Retsu said quietly. "I'll be up soon."

She waited until the sound of another door reached her before so much as moving. There was so much to think about, knowing all of this. It felt like a relief, finally having some much-needed insight into the matter. At the same time, however, it felt very much like an invasion. He had no idea of the things that had been discussed, and, for that, she felt somewhat guilty.

Now, instead of a single choice being placed before her, there were two.

The first: Tell him, or pretend that there had been nothing but small talk. Second: Was it right to tie herself to him, or was it going to become a mistake?

**# - # - # - #  
><strong>

For the longest time, she'd been alone. Even after all this time, she still had no idea why. Some had said that it was because she was a bit "unhinged." To the contrary, she didn't see herself that way at all. So far as she was concerned, she was simply an excitable sort, and one who very much liked the company of other people.

And, seeing how her own personal judgments were spot-on, it didn't make any sense that they had always left her behind.

That's right. They'd left her behind. Each and every one of them. She'd loved them immensely, being sure to express that through both word and deed, but it never seemed to last. The last one had actually gone so far as to propose to her, insisting that they could, and would, be very happy for the remainder of their lives, clasped tightly in one another's arms.

She had soared through the clouds at that moment, joyously proclaiming that she would accept.

Three months later, on the day of their wedding, he hadn't even shown up. For six weeks, she hadn't heard from him, only to receive a phone call, just out of the blue. He had fled to Okinawa, deciding that it wouldn't work out. Grievously, she'd been forced to cope with the consequences of abandonment again.

That had been in February of last year, and still she was broken.

Still, there was no doubt that he had loved her, but he had since moved on and settled down with a woman from Hokkaido, bringing to life a beautiful baby boy.

She had been upset for a while, but it had now dulled to a slow ache. Even with that weighing down on her, she had continued to search for the one she'd loved from the start. It had been some time since she'd last laid eyes on him, but she still loved him all the same.

Last she'd heard had been years earlier, just after their high school graduation. After that, she'd received word that he'd gone off to school, only to end up meeting the woman who had, in her mind, stolen him away.

When she, that devilish beauty of a woman, had been turned to naught but chum, she had done nothing but laugh.

Now, at long last, she'd found him, once again enthralled with the idea of being with a woman who wasn't her. Not even close. True, a woman as perfect as this one was hard to come by, but she wasn't fooled by his façade. She was convinced that, even two decades later, there was still something in those eyes that he'd reserved for her when they'd been in school. They'd only been about fourteen at the time, but she knew how to read him.

He couldn't really love anyone other than her.

**# - # - # - # **

It was all so... There wasn't really a way to explain it. As if there even existed a word to describe how strange everything had been as of late. It seemed that the rate of insanity in the city was at an all-time high, what with people staring over their shoulders at every little thing. The bus screeches to a halt, and the people waiting to board stare at all the departing passengers as if they're heretics and demons. Really, everyone has become a suspect, and no one is safe from prying eyes and public speculation.

To top it all off, his territory had been encroached upon by three additional females. He could handle one of them, as he had a very keen interest in her, but what with the child and the other one showing up out of nowhere, it was a miracle he hadn't marinated the place in smoke. There was no denying how horrid it was, smoking, but it was just another means to throw all the anxiety down a dark hole. Hell, he really hated the damned things anyway. Still, it didn't seem like they'd be going anywhere soon.

Not at this rate, at least.

He grimaced, throwing a hand over his eyes. Just thinking about it was enough to remind him why he'd started using them in the first place: Stress, resentment, and... yes, even fear.

It had never been an easy task, adapting to a new environment, let alone the changes that came every now and then. Still, he knew there was no justification for it.

Faces were now flashing through his skull, making the darkened room an even worse hell. A child, Retsu, and _her_. Gods, why did she even show up?

Oh, that's right. She _had _made arrangements two weeks earlier, had even called to say that she had the time to come. Even so, he'd told her not to, but she hadn't listened. Again. He really couldn't remember a time when she'd listened intently to anything he'd said. Now, why was that?

"_Mother knows best." _

How annoying. She'd heard that once in some godawful movie, and had used it ever since. Even now, when there was no reason for her to be lingering over his shoulder, she was still pushing out that stupid cliché of a phrase.

"You're _still _awake?" Her shadow was in the door, immediately drawing his attention. A sure sign that he'd have to spill his guts in regards to everything and anything he'd been thinking about. She closed the space between them easily, the mattress sinking as she slid to his side. "Where did you disappear to earlier?"

As if she didn't know. "Work."

Retsu feigned surprise as she slid across the floor. "Really? That's strange, because... from the way you left, without talking back to Toshiro, it seemed like you were in quite the hurry to escape."

See? Retsu knew exactly why he'd gone. She hadn't even pretended not to know that her friend's son had been on the other end of the call. And here she was, thinking she was so damn clever.

"What did you two talk about?"

_Now_ he remembered. She wasn't talking about the boy genius anymore, but what had occurred earlier that evening. The uncharacteristic outburst that had even caught him off guard. A better question would have been, "Why didn't you ignore her?"

"'Talk about?' It was more like an interrogation." If going through that "conversation" had been humiliating the first time, then admitting its existence was downright intolerable. And, based on the way Retsu was staring, she was going to make him talk. Not likely. He wasn't going to give her that satisfaction, no matter how small. "She wanted to know everything. What I did, what I felt..." Mayuri smacked the wall. "Why the hell does it matter?"

It was stupid, talking about this sort of thing. As if he even remembered all the details.

Retsu shrugged, a deep breath escaping her. "It's not that bad," she said. "Maybe I understand it because I'm a woman, but I think she's looking to connect with you on a level that's not just blood."

Forget intolerable. This was just becoming _wretched_.

"Besides," she went on. "I don't think she's just looking for connections. I think she wants answers, too. Think about it. For ten long years, she's been wondering why things turned out this way. Why fate chose to take someone she needed, and... how things would be different if this hadn't happened. She needs to know that you care..."

It was difficult to tune out someone who was lying right next to him. He'd only missed a few words.

"...know that someone else understands. Still, I don't think she's the only one who needs answers. It seems to me that you need them, too."

"Who are you to tell me what I need?"

Again with that smile. It seemed she was sincerely trying to aggravate him. "I can't answer that," she said, smile fading. "It's for you to decide."

Forget it. He shouldn't have said anything in the first place. It was just a means of getting him to play into the game she'd decided to create. As if there were any time for games. But she wouldn't understand that. Her whole profession was, in a sense, exactly that. She spent her days with whimpering children and their parents, rather than rooting around inside people's heads. Maybe that's what made it all so awkward. She had an idea as to what she was doing, while he...

"You're doing it again," she said, a sigh upon her lips.

Mayuri narrowed his eyes at her, trying to decide if she were just messing with him again. "Hmm?"

"Thinking."

"And that's wrong?"

She shrugged, fingers dancing down his spine. "If you overdo it." A moment of silence. "And, I'll have you know, you _do _overdo it... _Rin_."

"What the _hell _did she tell you?"

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," she cooed, mimicking him. "Quit panicking about everything. Just... let everything go."


	17. Don't Say Anything

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the _Bleach_ characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 17: **Don't Say Anything

**A/N: **I wasn't, but then I had to. I just couldn't help myself.

* * *

><p>In his experience, one couldn't do a damn thing in secrecy, as women, what with their keen sixth sense and observant gazes, had to know exactly what was going on all the time.<p>

Now was one of those times.

"Why can't you just tell me?" Retsu insisted, completely disregarding her drink on the table. "And why are we here? You hate outdoor restaurants!"

That was true, but he wouldn't deviate from the plan. If Retsu could find the means with which to curb her enthusiasm, it just might work. In order to get to the end, he'd have to ignore her. Which was rather hard, since she was fussing over him, constantly asking why he was dressed for work when he had the day off.

Still, enduring it was all part of the plan.

Fortunately, it was bearable, as there were few people lingering in the area. The majority of them were running in and out of shops, chasing children, or just making small talk on street corners. That was just fine with him. If there had been any more people around, Mayuri would have called the whole things off.

All the same, it was still tempting.

He felt like a fool for even having considered this. What had prompted something so utterly predictable? The answer he'd found, after mulling it over for days, had always been the same: Retsu was right. About what? Him. It kept coming around, insisting that it wasn't just interest, as he'd said some time before, but some silenced longing for more than just satisfaction. It made about as much sense as anything else that had happened, murder mystery and the like, but Mayuri kept hoping he wasn't that pathetic.

It just wouldn't do.

He looked up, realizing that, for some time, she'd been chattering on about something. "What?"

"I said, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to leave?"

If she did that, then nothing would get done.

"Like hell you are," he snapped, quieting down as the waitress showed up to place more drinks on the table. Honestly, she wasn't being very subtle, constantly smirking at him. As if they even needed more to drink. They hadn't even finished what she'd brought the first time. "You're staying here."

Retsu leaned back in the chair, tilting her head. "Just tell me what you're up to. Not knowing makes me nervous."

Well, that wasn't anything new. He'd known that for a while, and had purposefully kept her in the dark for that very reason... That, and he was having a hard time stomaching the impossible idea that had continued to show up.

Once again, gods damn emotional attachment.

"What the hell are you doing?" he muttered, staring squarely at the waitress behind Retsu.

The young woman flushed a bright red, holding the tray over her mouth. "Uh, drinks?" she said quietly.

People really were idiots. He waved a hand at the table which was, by this time, sopping wet because the clumsy little wretch had spilled everything while trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. It was no wonder she'd ended up as a waitress. It seemed to be the least challenging task for a girl with her level of intelligence.

"We're fine," Retsu said, obviously sensing the tension. "Thank you."

The girl hurried away, glancing back as Mayuri rolled his eyes. "You don't thank someone who's inserting themselves into your business!"

"It's more than you did," came the reply. "You were trying to scare her."

"Yes!" he hissed, lifting his sleeve out of the water. "You finally understand!"

Retsu looked away, lifting the glass to her lips. "What I understand is that you enjoy frightening weak-minded people. Then again, you tried that very same thing with me when we first met, which insinuates that you believed myself to be on par with her."

He blinked several times, trying to register what she'd just said. "I never said that. _You _brought 'weak-minded' people into this. Not me."

"Relax, I'm kidding," she laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe I _should _let you have a drink or two every now and again. You're much too stiff."

Scared stiff would have been much more appropriate.

He stared over her shoulder, not at all shocked to see that the waitress was, once again, staring. Mayuri grimaced, taking Retsu by the hand and pulling her out of the chair. "That's it. I can't do this here. We're leaving."

"Why? Wait a minute. Do what?" Retsu pulled him back, rooted to the spot. "I'm not going anywhere until you start explaining."

"Forget it. It's... not important."

She grabbed his arm as he turned to leave. "You _always _say that. No, talk. Why did you bring me here? What's so important that you can't do it now?"

"Oooh! I think I know!"

Mayuri turned, very nearly catching the bastard in the mouth with a glass. The man skipped backwards several feet, grinning all the while. "Why are you here?"

The man shrugged, sidling over to Retsu. "I was in the area, and thought I'd stop by to say 'hi.'"

"Aren't you...?" Retsu started, snatching the glass out of Mayuri's hand.

"Kisuke Urahara," he said with an over-exaggerated bow. "The pleasure's all mine."

Unfortunately, Retsu seemed quite taken with Kisuke's so-called charm. "Retsu Unohana," she replied.

A smile. "Believe me, I know who you are."

"Bastard," Mayuri grimaced as the man walked behind his back, ignoring the way Retsu was now glowering at him. She didn't approve of his terminology, but that was besides the point. Now, rather than dealing with a very curious woman and an obsessive waitress, the fates had seen fit to throw a fool like Kisuke into the mix. "What do you want?"

Back in sight again, Kisuke began walking around in circles, stopping only to drop a little black box into Retsu's hand. "This, my dear, is what Mayurin brought you here for. He's quite cunning, you see, which is why something so simple as lunch wouldn't arouse your suspicions. He was trying to catch you off guard."

"Where did you...?" His eyes widened, hands searching his pockets before realizing that Kisuke had been searching. "You little – !"

"Aww, don't be that way, Mayurin!" the man laughed, peering over Retsu's shoulder. "You sure as hell weren't going to ask her anytime soon, so I thought I'd help you out a bit. Besides, we have some catching up to do, right?"

He'd rather die than "catch up" with Kisuke. He'd been a nuisance during middle school, and hadn't changed at all. For three years, the fool had followed him around, constantly going around insisting that the two of them were "like brothers." Much to his great dismay, Kisuke was still clinging to that.

Just another idiot without any common sense.

"We don't, and you need to leave!" he barked, grabbing Kisuke by the shirt. "I swear, I _will _kill you if you're not gone in the next three seconds."

The vendor sighed, smile still on his face. "Aw, don't be that way," he chided far too happily. "I was only trying to help. Gods know you're incapable of doing this kind of thing on your own."

"God, Kisuke! Don't start – !"

He was cut off as Retsu stepped between them, forcing Kisuke back with a hand. "_This _is what you were...? I... You..."

She was wide-eyed, nearly in tears, and completely oblivious to the ridiculous faces Kisuke was making in the background. Faces that were really starting to piss him off. Really, the man acted like a child. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was often dealing in illegal substances.

"Well," the fool said suddenly, staring anxiously down the block, "it seems it's about time for me to be off. Business calls, and all that. So..."

With that said, he turned and ran, easily slamming into people without so much as an apology. Not that he was competent to know what the word even meant.

"Goddammit, Kisuke!" came a shrill cry from the direction the vendor had been staring. There, standing at the mouth of a frightened-looking crowd, was a dark-skinned woman with feral eyes. She began screaming again as she took off after the man, demanding that he "get your ass back here and pay up, cheapskate! You owe me money!"

Completely asinine.

"All right, I've waited long enough." Retsu stepped in front of him, coy smile on her lips. "You have something to ask me?"

"No." This had really been a bad idea.

She crossed her arms, shaking her head in disbelief. "You are so full of it. Do you really think there's ever a time when you're safe from prying eyes? A time wherein someone isn't watching? I'm sorry to say that doesn't exist. And you're a terrible liar."

"I'm not asking you anything," he said stubbornly.

"Well, the fact that you went to all the trouble of chasing Kisuke away is reason enough for me to believe that you intended to ask me."

"Say what you want."

"Is that your way of telling me I can go about this as I please?"

Mayuri hesitated. There was no way this could turn out well, but... "Fine."

"Still, you should ask me. It's only proper."

"Who told you I was proper?"

She shrugged, admiring the ring. "You're not as cold as you want people to believe." She was ignoring the question. "This proves it. It goes much further than just... interest."

**# - # - # - #**

"That ain't the guy."

The captain stared at him incredulously, seemingly wanting to dismiss the statement altogether. His hands seem to tighten unconsciously. "I'm sorry, what?"

Though he wasn't really supposed to be present at the police headquarters, the captain had insisted that his men stay well out of Kenpachi's way. That suited him just fine. He didn't get privileges, as if he needed them, but he wasn't harassed and treated like the syndicate leader he was.

Kenpachi nodded to the sorry sack of shit who was cussing at the officers in the holding cell. The mouthy youth, Nnoitra, if he had the brat's name right, had been barking orders for the last few days, making various threats and managing to stab one of the officers with a ball point pen. Yeah, real smart.

"That fucker ain't the one I want. He's a rogue, ya understand? Lousy little bastard what rips off drugs and shit. Can't make it on his own, let alone in a gang, so he wanders 'round the city tryin' to build himself a reputation. Hell, the only thing that punk's been able to do on his own is mimic the real killers."

Apparently, his information had hit a nerve, the captain's gaze now strained. "He's _mimicking _the Irooni Killer? Why didn't you mention that before?"

The man shrugged. "Ya were gonna arrest him anyway. Why the hell bother?"

"It's important to this case, that's why!" came the sour reply. "You idiot! No, _I'm _the idiot! I should have known better than to trust Yakuza! Ugh, this is turning into a nightmare!"

That was true, but they'd made a deal under the table. The little nugget would give him a set amount of protection from the law, so long as he didn't do anything stupid, and, in turn, he'd use his resources to give the kid an edge on the case. Not that either of them had made much progress.

"Can't stand that guy," he muttered, watching his girl as she put her mouth on the coffee spout. "Takes a lot for somethin' to nag at me, but he sure as hell knows how to do it."

His breaths having calmed, the white-haired boy looked up at him. "That's strange," he said. "You didn't seem too bothered by Nnoitra when I had him brought in. Though, he certainly is violent enough to merit a straitjacket."

Kenpachi laughed, rubbing the boy's head with a large hand. "Not him, punk. The other one. The sour-looking bastard what came in here the other night. Somethin' about him just bugs the shit outta me."

"If you're talking about Kurotsuchi, then I have to concur. He's certainly stranger than most."

"Not just strange, ya little rat. Fuckin' possessed, like he's hidin' somethin' dark." He grinned. "Damn, it'd be one hell of a pleasure, knockin' off a guy like that."

Toshiro raised an eyebrow, failing to notice the coffee that Yachiru was dripping on the floor. "And why, dare I ask, is that?"

"I just told ya! He bugs the shit outta me!"

"Regardless, you're not to interfere. I can't stomach his behavior, but he's more than qualified to handle the autopsies." A soft smile. "Not that you'd understand what that means."

"Kid, just shut yer damn mouth. I ain't no fool, ya got it? I ain't so stupid as to not know what the fuck an autopsy is. Hell, for all you know, some of the bodies you bastards have collected over the years came from my boys kickin' the shit outta useless assholes."

The boy turned on him as a man opened a door, ushering him inside. "If you want to keep your head, Zaraki," the boy said, "then you'll do well to abstain from comments of that sort. I've told you once already: I'm not above breaking our deal if you're operating behind my back."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

* * *

><p>In reference to my previous statement: Shits and giggles. Now, I had every intention of posting this before my schedule picked up again, but I didn't make it. However, 18 is halfway finished, and I'll try to post it this weekend if not sooner.<p> 


	18. Silver Lines

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Bleach, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 18: **Silver Lines

* * *

><p>After a few days of bright, late summer sunshine, Toshiro had started to believe that it would last. Sadly, the next morning had been bleak, the lightning booming out to the east. They were probably going to end up with a storm that had brewed out in the Pacific.<p>

"Another child," Toshiro said, staring at his desk. It was late, and he was about ready to drop. "She was killed a block south of the train station. They found her fifteen minutes ago." He looked up, wondering why the man was still wearing that straight face. "Your... _talents _will be needed when they bring her in."

It seemed his words were all but ignored as Mayuri stared out the door. "Isn't that...?" He laughed, shaking his head at the boy. "That's violation of protocol, Captain. Cutting deals with criminals."

Toshiro ignored him. He didn't need lessons on protocol from a man who looked for loopholes in medical procedures just so he could keep the bodies longer. If anything, _that _was a violation, and not just of the rules. It was also an infringement upon the rights of the deceased's family.

"Shut your mouth, or I'll have Retsu get after you," the boy grumbled.

Yes, he knew what had gone on previously without his knowledge. In fact, he'd only recently received the news from the woman herself, as she'd called to check up on him. He'd told her how things were proceeding, only to make the mistake of asking her how she had been. The bomb had blown up in his face shortly after, and he'd managed to choke out an insincere word of congratulations. Shortly afterward, he'd felt rather sick.

"I don't need you telling me what is and isn't right," Toshiro huffed, leaning back in his chair. "It's hard enough that we have no leads, and that I have to borrow you from Director Seta. But, I suppose you rather enjoy that last bit. I've heard she's not the best person to operate under."

He'd heard plenty about the director of Karakura General, Naoto Seta, but had never believed it until he'd been forced to go into her office to explain the severity of the situation. The woman had seemed kind enough at first glance, but when he'd informed her that the murder investigation would require the constant services of the man she loved to hate, she'd closed the curtain on her manners, and insisted that Toshiro get his ass out of her office.

Now, he was waiting for the chief to handle it.

After all, it was a rare thing for anyone to refuse the chief. He was a man who had been in the world long enough to know how to properly deal with even the most difficult people, and even get what he needed from them in order to further pursue investigations such as this one.

"Why her?" he found himself saying. "You hate people, hold no regard for authority... So what in the name of the gods would prompt you to take such an interest in a woman like Retsu Unohana?"

The captain hated how the glee began to smolder. Perhaps it wasn't such a good idea to bring that up.

"Captain?"

He turned, spotting one of the officers he'd deployed at his door. "You've brought her?" he inquired sadly.

The man nodded. "Yes, sir. She's... waiting in the lab."

"What about the parents?"

"Questioning them as we speak, Captain. I'll bring by their statements when we're done."

Toshiro nodded, feet touching the floor. He didn't say anything, just walked right out of the office and down the white, tiled hallways. It was impossible to understand the logic, even if it was his job. He'd worked himself to death in the academy, the bright light egging him on. He'd ignored his father's wishes, his pleas, but he'd made it all the same. But, perhaps that had been the cause. Maybe he'd been the one to further aggravate the man's condition, worrying him as he pressed forward with a single thought.

That's what made it so hard, seeing these people, these bodies, this way. It was even brighter in the lab, and that made him sick. He swallowed, flinching as the plastic sheet was pulled away from the body.

It was so small, so fragile, a gaping bullet wound in the child's skull. He glanced quietly at the papers on the table, catching sight of a sticky note one of his officers had left behind, explaining that they'd gone over the sight of the murder several times, turning up no sign of a bullet or shell.

No shell. That meant no prints, either. In order to load the murder weapon, the killer would have been forced to handle the ammunition himself. The fact that they hadn't found the killing bullet meant that the bastard had been smart enough to retrieve it before the girl was found. But, if the killer had shot the girl point-blank, then he would have been on the crime scene, and would have left something, even footprints, behind.

"Matsumoto!" The woman darted in without a word. Unusual, as she always had something to say. "Get in touch with Tachibana, and tell him I want that block of the city closed down. Anything that's out-of-place should be marked as potential evidence and brought in. No exceptions."

The red-head nodded, slipping out of the room as quickly as she'd come. Again in silence. She must have picked up on the fact that he was uneasy.

_Why? She's just a... child..._

"Feeling sentimental, Captain?" Mayuri was leaning across the table, just over the tiny body.

"Shut up and do your damned job," the boy shot back, slamming his hands onto the paperwork. "And make it fast."

Toshiro felt rather uneasy, watching those calm eyes linger on the body. They were too collected, too calculating. He couldn't see through them, and it made him feel as though he were trapped behind a wall of one-way glass: He, the boy who had grown up too fast, was on display, left as another subject to be analyzed.

He'd wanted to solve problems; to put people at ease; to bring peace to their lives. He hadn't wanted this, not at all. To watch people die. Yes, he'd known what the position entailed, what he'd have to endure due to his choice, but he'd just imagined it so differently.

"You already know how she died, which leads me to wonder why I'm even here."

Not this again. "We need _all _the facts, you fool. Clothing fibers, traces of the killer's DNA, prints. Whatever it is, find it, and write the report. Again, it's your job. Now, do it."

Blue eyes struggled to find something else to stare at, to grab his attention, but there was nothing. Of course, it was just an examination room. The white walls to the right of him supporting storage units, cabinets, shelves, and all manner of equipment that he didn't particularly wish to think about. The walls behind the calculating bastard supported screens used for reading x-rays. Toshiro didn't remember what they were called, or if they even had a proper name. But he knew, even understood, that this department was a crucial part of this, and of any, investigation. What he _didn't_, couldn't, understand was how a person could be so thorough and composed about seeing people this way. Especially children. But, if they had a trembling coward on hand, then nothing would get done.

He detested the very idea, but he'd much rather keep this bastard in his sights. Toshiro didn't trust him to operate without supervision.

There was a clatter as something hit the floor, sending the captain into overdrive. He spun, foot falling on something that wasn't tile, thus flipping backwards and slamming against the cool material. It was uncomfortable, not only because of the pain, but because he didn't know when this floor, the one that often received the brunt of the victims' bodily fluids, had been cleaned last.

Disgusting.

He muttered a curse, looking down to see that he'd slipped and fallen on the pen that had been in his pocket. Further inspection of his uniform told him that he needed to return home and sew up the hole.

"You're not working," he noted, plucking the item off the floor. "Why is that?"

"She's _seven_," came the reply. "Not too much to work with."

The file that Toshiro had brought in was now back in his arms. He flipped through the pages, taken aback when he saw that the report was thoroughly completed. How long had he been standing there thinking?

"Beaten and broken," Mayuri quipped with a bit too much enthusiasm. There was an x-ray, likely conducted earlier, thrown up on one of the screens. It showed multiple fractures and breaks. "Then the bullet. No prints, no fibers, and no DNA. You had all the facts from the start, Captain. All you did was waste more time."

Toshiro slammed a hand on the table, causing the cold body to shake. "It's _not_ wasted time!" he snarled, stalking across the room. His voice was a low growl. "I've only heard stories, so let me ask you... When he got to _her _the first time, your wife, did you play this kind of game? Did you try to look for a way out? A way to pretend it never happened?"

There was silence, and then... "I've made it a point to avoid emotional attachment."

That didn't make any sense, and it certainly didn't answer the question. This man had people to take care of; people who, by whatever stretch of the imagination, gave a damn about the things he had to shoulder. A daughter, and now Retsu. So, how could he say such a heartless thing?

"Then what kind of game are you playing? Do you get off with this kind of thing? Seeing people, even innocent children, lying there with their faces frozen in fear and agony? Or maybe you can't comprehend that! Maybe you're just so far gone that their final moments don't even come to mind!"

His hands were tightly wound into the fabric of Mayuri's shirt. Contrary to his own raging emotions, the other man seemed somewhat apathetic, as if he weren't even registering the turmoil in which the young captain was enmeshed. Regardless of his position, that of an on-duty police officer or a regular citizen, Toshiro knew he wouldn't be able to get away with clocking the bastard, however much he wanted to. The repercussions, as he knew, would just be one more headache for him to deal with.

The chief would have his head.

"Forget it," he snapped, releasing his hold so he could walk away. His indignation wasn't going to get him anything, let alone drive the point home with this hedonistic bastard. The boy felt horribly inept, as there had been little progress made on the case. All they'd managed to do was weed out a copycat killer and exclude the Yakusoku Gang from the list of possible assailants. His hand fell against the door, head bowed.

It was his duty to preserve justice, to bring it forth for those who had suffered and died. They had been snatched away, encased in death's hands before their rightful end, a natural end, had reached them. There was a saying he'd recited often, one that his father had told to him before his entrance into the academy:

"_'The dead cannot cry out for justice; it is a duty of the living to do so for them.'"_

Where the quote had come from, he was unsure. He'd committed it to memory, but the name of the author of those words had always eluded him somehow.

_I'm sorry,_ he said to no god in-particular. _It's surreal, erratic. I don't know if I can take much more. I really don't see any silver lining..._

"In reference to your earlier question, Captain..." The boy turned, mood further soured by the crooked grin. "I'm merely attracted to what's _interesting_."

**# - # - # - #**

"Oh, my God, Retsu! You did _not_! When were you going to tell me?"

The phone was yanked away from her ear, Nanao's questions growing louder by the moment. Honestly, she'd meant to tell her _after _everything was said and done, but the woman had called to ascertain as to why Retsu had canceled their plans for the week. Again.

"I'm sorry," she laughed, pushing a large dish out of Akemi's reach. "Really, Nanao. I was going to tell you as soon as..."

There was a loud huff from the other end of the line. "Liar," she accused, and Retsu imagined her friend pointing a finger at the phone. "You could have at least called to tell me after it happened. I would have been there in a heartbeat."

"Yes, I have no doubt of that. But, you would have only come to talk me out of it, and to harass him. I wasn't going to have that."

Nanao's disdain for the man had seemed to grow over the past few months. Not once had the two had a friendly outing without the woman making some kind of radical accusation. At first, they'd been rather humorous, little things that seemed to be more in regards to Shunsui than Mayuri. But, as time had gone on, Retsu had noticed how Nanao had taken in every detail about him.

"He... works with bodies, right?" She sounded a bit disturbed, but that was easily replaced by excitement. "Wouldn't it be the perfect murder-mystery if he had ties to the Irooni Killer? He's about as social as a rock, so it wouldn't be too shocking. Besides, he'd be the one removing all traces of evidence, thus ensuring that the killer was never caught!"

Retsu rolled her eyes, sighing audibly into the phone. Now _that _was the most insane thing her friend had suggested about him. "Nanao, I insist that you stop watching those crime dramas. They're entertaining enough, but they distort reality for the sake of the plot. Real crime scenes don't operate the way they do on television. Besides, I can't fathom the idea of Mayuri assisting the person who killed..."

She stopped, suddenly realizing what she had almost let slip. He hadn't exactly _said _anything about it, but the way he distanced himself from any questions regarding Kanra implied that he didn't want the subject to be discussed. And, were she to tell Nanao, things would only get worse from there.

"What were you saying, Retsu? Something about your psychotic, hedonistic boyfriend?"

As if the term "boyfriend" even pertained to the situation anymore. No, they'd moved past that three days earlier, but it was best that Nanao continue to believe as she did. Were she to find out too soon, before she got used to the idea of her friend being involved with Mayuri, Retsu was sure that there would be hell to pay for not informing her of the engagement sooner.

"Don't label him," she insisted, silently pleased that Nanao hadn't heard what she'd almost said before. "Being antisocial doesn't make him psychotic."

There was a knowing gasp from Nanao, and Retsu could almost see her face as she spoke. "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?" Another gasp. "What did you do? Why do you keep canceling on me? Actually, a better question would be... What did _he _do?"

"Nanao, I understand how deeply fascinating this is for you, prying into my relationship with a man you know nothing about, but you fail to remember that I now have..."

Retsu was cut off as Akemi tugged on her arm, sending the phone to the floor with a crack. She tried to shoo her away, insisting that she go play with her dolls or crayons, but Akemi wanted nothing to do with such things. Clearly, she wanted attention, the likes of which only her mother could give.

_A child_, she thought, watching the battery pop out of the phone's back. Hopefully, it wasn't broken.

"Pick it up, please," she said, standing.

Akemi looked rather guilty, sitting down on the floor and collecting the pieces, snapping them back into place on the phone before looking back at her mother.

Retsu held out her hand, expecting the girl to hand it over. Instead, Akemi took off across the carpet, running down the hall and into her room where she closed the door, giggling. Retsu followed, reaching the room in less than half the time, her fingers curled around the knob as she shook it. Akemi had locked the door.

"Open up," she said. "Akemi, I need the phone."

Ear pressed to the door, Retsu could hear the sound of tones as her daughter was likely pushing buttons on the cell. She shook the door, requesting again that Akemi listen. Again, she was ignored, the toddler suddenly chattering on about how her mother had been talking to "Nana-chan" earlier. Her name for Nanao.

Retsu went back to the kitchen, grabbing the keys from the top of the refrigerator. It was fortunate that the hallway was carpeted. It ensured that Akemi wouldn't hear her coming. The key was slipped into the knob, quickly turned to allow the door to open, showing the little girl as she sat on the carpet, eyes wide.

"What happened in here?" Retsu said, staring at the walls. Somehow, Akemi had gotten hold of the food coloring in the kitchen cabinet and smeared it all across her room. She'd probably thought that the colorful little bottles were liquified crayons and markers.

Akemi hopped to her feet, grabbing a toy before putting the phone back into Retsu's hands. It was then that she ran out of the room, round little face still looking guilty.

Sitting on the bed, Retsu stared at the device, pressing it to her ear. "Hello?"

"Why do people ask so many damned questions...?" Akemi seemed had called up her "Mayurin." How cute.

"A better one would be: why are you answering the phone?" she asked, shaking her head at the mess on the wall. Retsu was really wondering how he was talking to her while in the middle of an autopsy. Probably speaker phone. "I thought you were working late today."

"Doesn't matter," came the reply, a light clatter in the background. There was less bite than usual, and that worried her.

She sighed, watching as Akemi poked her head back into the room, a wet washcloth in her hand. Retsu smiled, watching as her daughter set to work at cleaning up the mess, tiny hand rubbing the cloth against the wall, turning it somewhat green. There were some of those clean erasers under the kitchen sink, so she'd take care of it when she finished with this.

"Who's asking questions?"

"Your girl." She'd actually expected him to pin her.

She turned, noticing that Akemi had curled up on the floor, staring intently at one of her animals. A staring contest, it seemed. But was this really what was bothering him so much? Was this why he sounded so... depressed? Akemi was only three. Retsu could understand that it might become bothersome for such a young child to ask questions that adults couldn't yet answer, but how bad could her questions be?

"What did she say?"

She tried to keep her mind from wandering, tried not to remember how many people had died. It still worried her, the idea that this monster might come find her. She was as random a person as anyone else on the streets. The odds were slim but still there. It frightened her even more knowing that she was in close contact with two of the people involved in the case.

"Are you going to tell me?" Retsu asked, shooing the thoughts away.

There was silence, which made her think that he was considering it before... "No."

"Okay." She wasn't going to push it. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. Coercion didn't work on him, anyway. "When do you finish up?"

"Eleven."

Gods, that was late. If this weren't a murder investigation, she would have seriously thought about talking to Toshiro. But it wasn't her place to meddle.

"You won't go anywhere else, will you?"

"...Fine."

The line was cut, and she felt that something wasn't right.

* * *

><p>The line "The dead cannot cry out for justice; it is a duty of the living to do so for them" is a quote from Lois McMaster Bujold.<p> 


	19. The Marks To Show

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 19: **The Marks To Show

**A/N: **Lemon.

* * *

><p>It would be a lie to say that she'd been less than enthusiastic when Retsu had shown up late that afternoon while on her way to pick up Akemi from day care. It was then that she'd been informed of the situation. She'd feigned sincerity for the woman's sake, but that had been the extent of it. When she had asked why the arrangement had been kept a secret for so many days, Retsu had expressly insisted that she hadn't want her own mother to come charging into her business, making irrational demands. She had also made mention of that friend of hers, Nanao, who seemed dead-set against Retsu having anything to do with the likes of Mayuri Kurotsuchi.<p>

Nemu only believed half of that. Her father had probably told Retsu not to say anything.

In the end, she hadn't been happy about it, but she'd kept quiet all the same. After all, she had gotten what she wanted the week prior, answers, but they had done very little to satisfy her.

The fact of the matter was, he'd tried to make her mother disappear. Now, she wasn't the kind of person to pass judgment, regardless of the situation, but that answer to one of her questions had done little to make her feel better. But, it certainly explained the vast distance between them. Still, she couldn't help feeling that he hadn't answered her with the utmost truth. He'd always been rather private, even when she had been a child. She knew that something had been given up, but Nemu couldn't be sure as to whether or not it had been the memories or even pain.

Even now, long after the fact, it was still difficult for her to digest all the pieces of what had happened.

It had really come as a big shock.

She remembered very little of the situation, nothing more than being the one to make the discovery and end up questioned by the police until she'd started crying.

She'd been ten, and had thus failed to notice how emotionless her father had been when she'd crawled into his arms. All she had done was cry.

For Retsu she was pleased. But, in regards to him, she was rather put off. Yes, he was far more experienced than she, but it still didn't feel right. She didn't feel good about the idea that someone else, along with a child, was about to walk right in on her life. Yes, she'd always longed for a mother's touch, but this really wasn't the right time. Assuming, of course, there ever would be a time.

She sat up in her room, staring blankly at the ceiling. She had her memories, sure, but they didn't feel like nearly enough. They never would. It was one thing for the two of them to spend time together, but another entirely to jump to this. Maybe it was strange because she couldn't really see him making any kind of binding commitment. Not to people, anyway.

His commitment was to the secrets of the dead.

No, that wasn't entirely true. She was here, wasn't she? That certainly counted for something, but Nemu's perception had always been that those feelings he'd held had died with her mother. Maybe that was what made this so difficult.

Still, she had what she needed now. Someone who would listen to her, someone who, when the time came, would want to take care of her. It was all moving so fast now, the time she'd waited for as a child. The days in which she'd be finished with school, free to open folded wings and go.

There was a glimmer from the windowsill as the sun pierced the glass, reflecting the shine in her eye. She reached over the bed, hand closing tightly around the tiny metal object. It was faded in a few places, even a little dented on the edge, but those were trivial things. All she cared about was the whole, the one thing of her mother's that her ten-year-old self had demanded she get to keep.

The ring.

They weren't clear and crisp like the photographs she had on her wall, the memories, but they were still hers. She remembered the summer after she'd turned five, asking her mother when she'd get to wear a ring like hers. Her mother had smiled gently, wrapping her in a towel to take the chill of the pool away.

"When you grow up," she'd said. "It's a special thing that people wear when they love each other and get married."

Nemu had just stared with wide eyes, not at all understanding the concept. "Does that mean you 'n Daddy love each other?"

There had been another smile, a fond one. "Yes, dear. But promise me you won't rush into it when you grow up."

"I promise, Mommy."

That's right. She'd made a promise. Even if her mother wasn't here to see it fulfilled, what kind of a person would she be if she broke it? Certainly, she had feelings for Uryu, but she would wait and see where they were in another year or so. But, what had prompted her mother to ask such a thing of a five-year-old?

****# - # - # - #****

Again, the city was becoming drained. Nothing quite so fearsome as the string of fires that had taken place months earlier, but chilling enough to bring people well out of their comfort zones. It didn't seem that they could all see it, as few of them merely went about muttering and cursing the gods for their ill fate while others appeared to sense some invisible force, perhaps some form of impending doom.

He happened to be one of those people.

Uryu was unsure as to what it was, but many of the people he came into contact with, even saw on the street, were utterly devoid of life, trudging through the city as if they had been thrown into a massive pit, worn down and starved with futile attempts to escape. Even the mundane was proving to be challenging, even to him. It was frightening, seeing the lack of color in everything around. There had been a time where the vividness of light had massively outdone that of shadow, sending it scampering into the darkened crevasses where it belonged. It was so much the opposite now.

Blue skies seemed to have been bled to naught but a dry husk, barely having the energy to sustain the sun and its dimming rays. If there was any real color in the world, it was that of the evening, the ghastly red hue of the sunset that now reminded him of little else besides blood. Dark clouds hovered off in the distance, close to the horizon, blinking in the night as they threatened the citizens yet again.

What an affect this murderer was having upon this, their world.

****# - # - # - #****

"Is everything all right? Do you want to talk about it?"

It had been nine-thirty when the door had closed behind Mayuri, trapping him again. It seemed that the only solace he could find was between runs, when he was away from everything. It was far easier to think when passing strangers on the street, catching bits of what they were saying. Even if they weren't talking about anything particularly interesting, it was enough for him to start tuning everything else out.

The nerve of that brat captain was all he could really think about. But the boy had been right. He didn't give a damn about the dead, because they were just that. Dead. Cold, empty, wiped from existence. But people still went on and on about their feelings as if a decaying corpse were still sentient.

Retsu hadn't shown yet, but that didn't mean he was alone by any means.

She crouched on the floor, looking up at him with worried eyes. He'd never seen her looking this way, so tired and frightened. He hated to admit it, but the mother he remembered as a child had never carried such a look in her eyes. She'd behave as if every day were the first of spring, tuning out all the misery that hovered about within a storm cloud above the city. In her world, bitterness didn't exist.

He wanted to snap at her, ensure that this would be the last time he'd hear those questions from her mouth. But if she didn't ask them, Retsu would, and she'd be sure to find a way to pry the answers out of him. He hated the warmth of her skin on his, the way her fingers settled over his own. It felt as though she were breaking him down, one precious second at a time.

Mayuri pulled away, but she followed, standing over his shoulder, her arms around him.

"Don't push me away," she whispered, begging. Her fingers trailed through his hair. She'd always done that when it rained, as if she were wiping the moisture away.

She began to tremble, hands caught up in the fabric of his jacket. He could hear it, the light sound of her nails scraping the cloth, as if it were about to split.

"I don't know what's happened to you." Great. She was crying.

Mayuri didn't do tears, not even with children. The single exception having been when his ten-year-old daughter had gone into emotional overdrive and cried herself to sleep for a month. He'd dealt with that, not happily, but with a reason that more than justified any questions. Simply put, it had been his job. Not that he'd ever done it particularly well.

"This is stupid," he muttered, feeling her grip tighten. "You act as though I'm already dead."

She inhaled deeply, chin resting on his shoulder. Her words were quiet, even less than a whisper, but he could hear her even as she turned to walk away. "To some degree, I think you are."

He told himself that her words didn't matter, that she was simply distraught based on whatever suffering she believed he was wrapped in. It was hell, acknowledging that she was right. In his mind, admitting it, even to himself, was like informing people that they'd made some kind of effort in their deductions. That they'd pegged him with nothing more than a simple speculation.

Maybe he hadn't given her nearly enough credit as a mother. It hadn't changed, the way she seemed to know everything. Well, almost.

But by the time that thought came, she'd already slipped away.

"Mama, I don't wanna go to bed!" a shrill voice then cried, the door closing and drowning out another complaint. At that moment, Akemi came bounding into the kitchen, throwing her backpack on the floor and tugging on Mayuri's sleeves so as to pull herself up onto his knee. She beamed up at him, fingers poking the buttons on his shirt. "Mama says we stay here tonight."

As quickly as she'd come, the child was gone, tromping up the stairs to her room after being ushered away by her mother's word, leaving the two of them alone.

She didn't say anything, just placed her hand on the back of the chair and stood behind him as if staring would get her the answers she wanted. He didn't flinch at the contact, trying to imagine it wasn't there. It was far easier than trying to push this woman away. She was about as stubborn as he was, if not more. To every "no" he gave her, there was a "why" or a "why not." There was never an "okay." She liked knowing things, making sense of the portrait in her mind. If she had been unable to have a hand in its creation, she'd pester those who did.

There weren't any questions, but she was wondering with her eyes. Were he to look at them, there was a good chance he'd tell her everything she was curious about, and that wouldn't do. There were things she had no business knowing; things that would likely send her running. He wouldn't do something that would drive her away.

It was sharp, the pain in his shoulder as her fingers squeezed. Her other hand wound its way under his chin, forcing him to look at her. Retsu wasn't curious at all. Her eyes were hard, betraying her smile. Answers weren't what she wanted now. She wanted to play games in which she excelled, driving coherent thought and reasoning away for the night.

Retsu stepped back, sliding her hand across the wall to the light, killing it.

He didn't want this. He was sick of games, being driven mad by the erratic patterns of the city's favorite lunatic. He didn't need her hands all over him, but space.

But he wasn't going to get that.

Her hand slipped into his, pulling, almost sadly. The burn was gone, turned to heated coals. He was scaring her, but she couldn't say it. Instead, she was leading, nervously pulling him to the stairs. It was just another hole, going up. One that he'd rather avoid. But she had the reigns, and all he could do was follow.

It would be too much of a bother to resist. The way she was now, Retsu would fight him for this.

This didn't make sense. A few sharp words from that stupid boy, and he was sent reeling. It had taken a bit of time to settle in, the ideas, but they were there, bringing more questions than answers. If he could satisfy any of those inquiries, he'd do so with the simplest, most common response: It doesn't matter.

But it must have. Why else was this so baffling?

Retsu pulled again, forcing him into a darkened room. Even without light, it was familiar. He could see the color of the walls, the way the furniture was placed precisely against the wall. He watched her run a hand across one of the shelves, surprised to see a layer of dust, looking at him as if he were responsible. He wasn't. He hadn't dared wander into this room for fear of all the questions Nemu would ask: Did he miss her? Why did she leave? Why did it have to be her?

If she knew what they were about to do, and here, she'd let him have it.

He'd avoided it all like the plague. But Retsu had some way of making it change. He hated it, the way she was something for him to lean on. It was admitting weakness, being with her, allowing her to touch him, but he couldn't get away. She had her hooks so deep into him that, were he to pull back, he'd bleed to death.

Mayuri was down before he could blink, Retsu easily slipping out of her clothes. It wasn't anything like it had been the first time. He was too distracted to really care. He was only here because she wanted him to be.

He couldn't even hear himself breathe as her hands began tugging at his collar, forcing her mouth over his. She was staring slow, but how long could that last? Fingers pressed the fabric down, smoothing it as she moved to undo buttons. There was a gap, a space of emptiness. There was nothing dark or light. It just was.

That's what she wanted for the moment. To disorient him long enough to satisfy her curiosity.

She kept on, pressing her knee firmly into his groin. He flinched, her excitement spilling over her face. What was she so pleased about? Wasn't it bothering her, the scent? It was wretched enough that he could taste it, flooding his mouth. Iron. Mayuri grimaced, trying to escape her wandering hands, but Retsu was persistent.

The way she kept playing started sprouting ideas. She wouldn't stop until she'd had him, slaking her lust, so he'd just have to comply.

It was a secret vanity of hers, the feeling of her hair brushing against her bare shoulders. She didn't have to say anything for him to figure it out. The way her breathing changed was enough. She inhaled sharply, their roles reversing, his hands easily pressing her into the sheets. She squirmed, fingers sliding across and between her legs, feeling her pulse. It was maddening the way she'd watch him, as if things would be any different than the last time. It would start with teasing, and end with sweat and her hands caught up in his hair.

She relied on touch for most everything. The daily mundane tasks of caring for sick children, the duty of comforting and loving her own. He suspected she even used it to read him. No, that wasn't even a suspicion. She did.

He pulled her up, pushing the hair away from her neck, giving a growl that made her warm skin freeze for a moment. Retsu flinched, her fingers digging into his spine. There were soft whimpers as he pushed his hand further into her, teeth easily assaulting her neck. She tensed up, shuddering as he pulled back, her heartbeat wild enough to break out of confinement. But she wouldn't take his teasing lying down. Her pale hand moved around to his chest, tightening and dragging itself down to his heat. She wasn't just good for kind words. Retsu knew how to manipulate him. How to make him beg for things he never would have before.

Her knee pressed into him again, his teeth snapping together with a shudder.

But it didn't matter. He wasn't thinking about what was happening, what she was doing, the fact that he couldn't breathe. The answers were, again, the only important things. He hated questions, the way they seemed to mock him. They laughed, dancing just out of reach. But that's what made them so alluring. They took advantage of his curiosity, the fact that he had to comprehend it all.

That's why he gave a damn about all this. Why he was still caught up in it. It had little to do with a grudge.

It was just satisfaction he wanted.


	20. The Witness

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Chapter 20: **The Witness

* * *

><p>"Well, now that it's official, what're you two planning?" He really shouldn't have been prying, but Kisuke couldn't help himself. Though he was sure that he was going to regret it. Given the rate at which bullets kept coming after him in the dead of night, he felt that he was entitled to a little fun. Even at someone else's expense. And he knew that, sooner or later, those who wanted him gone would catch up. "Are you two crazy kids gonna make any cute little monsters?" He narrowed his eyes. "<em>I know what happened last night.<em>"

Mayuri took a swing at him, cursing.

Kisuke laughed, slapping a hand on the table. He'd been vague on purpose, careful not to say anything that might scar the child sitting beside him. Were he to corrupt her mind, he was quite sure that Retsu, despite being kind, wouldn't spare a moment in chewing him out. But he was assuming that to be the minimum punishment.

He didn't want to know what she'd do to him on a bad day.

Mayuri didn't seem to give a damn that the child was looking at him with wide eyes. He was too focused with trying to drill holes into Kisuke's own skull with his gaze. The girl was cute, to be sure, and Kisuke would go so far as to say that she looked like her mother. Even if they weren't related by blood. It was funny how things turned out that way. Maybe the gods had a hand in that sort of thing.

"Are you trying to kill me with silence? Since you get to play with all the remains, you ought to know that there are better ways to off people."

Mayuri leaned over the table, grabbing him by the collar. The answer to his question was a resounding yes. "You idiot."

"I'm sorry." Again, the vendor laughed, this time waving a hand. A change of subject was at hand. "That came out wrong. But I'd never have believed you were so sensitive about her. Your girl. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you didn't give a damn about her."

He was promptly dropped back into his seat, little Akemi having saved him the trouble of trying to rationalize with the irrational. She must have sensed the tension, having slipped out of her chair so as to trade its cold metal for the man she deemed to be warm and inviting.

It was downright laughable.

"What are you doing with her anyway?" he inquired, tapping the table. "You hate kids. Why bring one with you?"

"It's called babysitting," Mayuri growled, watching the child as she situated herself on his knee. "And it's not your business."

Kisuke shook his head. "Oh, wrong answer!" he chuckled. "If she's your kid, it's not called babysitting. It's called responsibility."

Mayuri looked dumbfounded. "She's not mine!"

"Let us examine the facts. In the most unorthodox manner, you asked a question, received an answer, and sealed the deal," the vendor said pointedly. He really was enjoying this. "Therefore, this little cutie is, indeed, your child. Point and game, my friend."

"Candy!" Akemi said, a crayon hanging out of her mouth.

Kisuke laughed, covering his eyes. Watching this would be like having a front row seat to an explosive train wreck, but it was certainly better than anything on reality television. American dramas and their own Japanese game shows wouldn't be able to compare to a show like this. The vendor suddenly found himself wishing he had a camera, even if Mayuri would find a way to end his life with it. He'd probably end up with ligature marks from the cord.

Even with all the joy of behaving like a senseless adolescent, he still had to factor in the goings on of the world. There were people in this city, dangerous people of a high caliber, who desperately wanted him dead. It was only to be expected though. Kisuke was not only a vendor of rare goods, as well as a few illegal substances, but of information. And it paid well to sit around on street corners and eavesdrop on people. Information was, after all, power, and a good street ear knew how to make such things work in his favor.

It wasn't a welcome thought, knowing that these hitmen could be anywhere, scoping him out as a target, but it wouldn't do to go to the police. Captain Hitsugaya, after all, didn't seem to trust him too much. And he didn't really want to be questioned about his vague statements during their last encounter. No, it would be better for the captain to decipher those words on his own. Kisuke was sure that it would do the boy some good.

"By the way, I saw Captain Hitsugaya the other day."

Mayuri shrugged, watching the girl as she tried shoving crayons into his pocket. "So what?"

"We didn't talk much," Kisuke said, behaving as if the other man were actually interested. He shook his head, wearing a feigned look of concern. "I just gave him a little advice. He's still a kid on the inside, so I thought he could use a little pick-me-up."

Clearly, the girl's napkin drawing was much more entertaining, as Mayuri wasn't giving him the time of day.

"You're curious, right?" He grinned, not hopeful in the slightest. "Don't you want to know?"

Mayuri looked at him sourly. "Don't kid yourself, Kisuke. There's not a damned thing in this world that could convince me that you have something worthwhile to say. Besides..." He grimaced, probably recalling some godawful prank Kisuke had pulled on him as a child. "You _never _did give good advice."

Of course he'd make that kind of implication. One that easily referred to the days when Kisuke had been the self-proclaimed genius, and Mayuri had done everything possible to get rid of him. Kisuke hadn't been much older than nine, and had, for whatever reason, decided that the latter, being three years his junior, would be his lackey. At one point, he'd actually managed to convince Mayuri that it was appropriate for boys their age to walk into the women's restroom and pretend that they'd gotten lost.

Really, Kisuke, who had heard all manner of interesting things from older boys, was just curious as to what women did in a restroom. Rather, what they looked like under all their pretty clothes.

But the woman who had been standing at the sink hadn't understood, much less cared, about the inquiring minds of elementary school students. She'd been so frightened by the sight of two little boys trying to peer up her skirt, that she'd jumped the gun, reached into her purse, and sprayed them both with mace.

Kisuke remembered being scolded something fierce by his mother and being smacked repeatedly by his "accomplice."

"You're not still mad about _that_, are you?"

Silence.

It took everything Kisuke had to keep himself from laughing. He couldn't believe that Mayuri still remembered that, but it was certainly best to change the subject. "I can't remember my exact words, but I told the captain that, when he found his target, he'd know." He sighed, a coy smile on his face. "Though I can't imagine that our infamous, and surprisingly adept killer would be able to hide something this incredible. He must not have much of a social network. Am I right?"

"I'm not a psychoanalyst, and I really don't care."

The smile widened, and Kisuke pushed his chair back a few inches. "Oh, that's right! This is all terribly personal for you, isn't it? You don't care about the case so much as pulling the officers' slugs from the colorful bastard's body."

Mayuri sighed, oblivious to the fact that he now had a bright green scribble on the front of his shirt. "Don't fool yourself into thinking that I _won't _hit you."

"I wouldn't dream of it," the blond replied, standing. "But you should know I was serious."

"You're never serious."

The blond sighed, reaching over to pat Akemi on the head. At three, she was smarter than people would give her credit for. Maybe it was because of her innocence, because she knew nothing of the horrors of the world, but Kisuke was certain that this sweet child could easily sense more than most people ten times her age. She could see things that no one else could, feel intentions and determine how safe each person was.

It certainly would have explained her attachment to Mayuri.

"Be a good girl," he said leaning over, her eyes wide. He hesitated, the apparent disdain on the other man's face incredibly amusing. He was just looking for a reason to smack the vendor. Kisuke knelt down, the girl's hands pawing at his hat. "And, for dear Mommy's sake, make sure your daddy behaves himself."

"Kisuke..."

He backed away, stumbling into a couple of official-looking businessmen who gave him a dirty look. Apologizing profusely, the man ducked away from them, standing at the curb as he prepared to book it across the street. If that didn't piss Mayuri off, then he was horribly inept at getting a reaction. Sadly, that's exactly what it meant. He wasn't getting the desired result, incriminating glares and harsh words. Rather, it was that knowing grin. It really seemed that he was losing his touch.

"You really are an idiot."


	21. Nothing To It

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 21: **Nothing To It

* * *

><p>She didn't like it, being kept in the dark. Understanding his foolish tendencies was one thing, but accepting them? It was simply out of the question.<p>

Little had been said the previous evening. She'd asked her questions, and he'd given her the cold shoulder. A common thing, as of late. Akemi, on the other hand, had been bounding around the room, asking Retsu questions about why everyone else in her daycare got to say "daddy" all the time.

Mayuri had looked a bit ill after that, and it was enough to tell her that something was out of balance.

That was why she'd done things this way, leaving before he could wake so she could have a chance to talk to Toshiro. She'd been up and out by six-thirty. Besides, he wouldn't tell her anything. Again. So, her best bet was to go to the source.

It was a bit of a shame that the boy had to put up with Mayuri more than she did, for Retsu knew quite well that he rubbed the youth the wrong way. Toshiro was everything that a person would associate with justice, while her sadistic love interest purposefully went out of his way to oppose the boy's beliefs.

She'd have to talk to him about that later.

The glass hissed silently behind her, the air that caused a gap slowing down the door's progress. Retsu couldn't pinpoint why the station smelled this way, let alone the name of the scent. It was airy, but watered down and fresh, somehow. There was a young man sitting at a desk behind a window, his head shooting up from a book as she approached. He smiled at her, scribbling something on a sheet of paper before handing it over.

"The captain's office is down the hall, and on the left," he said, still smiling as he leaned out the window. "Just take this first right and pass the stairs and elevator. His door will be open."

Thanking him, Retsu did just that, noting just how many doors there were in this place. Some seemed to be for meetings, one for the break room, and another with a bolted lock that she assumed held the records of the officers. But that was just a guess. There was no sound as she walked past the elevator, which was different in comparison to the University. At all times of day, there would be at least one person using the device, not wanting to be bothered with several flights of stairs.

She caught sight of the directory beside the silver panel, realizing that one of the stops would take a person down to the basement level. Well, now she knew where Mayuri spent his days on the investigation team.

"What do you mean, he's not there? He expressly said that he'd be there this morning!"

The shouting was coming from an open door, the nameplate on the wood reflecting her young friend's name. Retsu stood in the door, patiently waiting for the bristling boy to calm down and end his phone conversation. But, from the way he had turned red, she assumed he was genuinely upset.

He groaned, flopping backwards into his chair, the wheels sliding across the floor a bit. "I don't care if he told you not to hand it out, Tessai. He knows something related to this case, which means that his instructions to you are rendered useless. Now, I'll ask you again: What's his number?" Toshiro leaned over the desk, nodding as he wrote something down. "You're sure that's right? All right, then. But my previous request still stands. The moment he shows up, you call me. Yes. Thank you."

The receiver dropped onto the base, Toshiro's coloration returning.

"Something wrong?" she asked, inching through the door. "You don't normally get that worked up, Toshiro."

The boy turned, the scowl fading into the background as he insisted she sit down. Even if it was gone, that angered face of his, she could still see it behind his eyes. Previous years of babysitting the boy for his parents had shown her that much.

When she'd sat down, the captain had leaned over his desk, hands clasped together as if he were nervous. He had reason to be. They'd only seen each other once or twice over the last five months, each busy with things that had been deemed important. Of course, he didn't look like he'd gotten too much sleep lately. There were light circles beneath his sea-blue eyes that he swiped at with a fist, trying to usher away the sensation of fatigue.

"Have you had anything to drink?" she asked, worried.

Toshiro nodded, grabbing his mug and turning it upside-down. "Matsumoto brought me some coffee and an omelet this morning. It's appreciated, but..."

"You hate coffee."

He smiled, straightening up. "You still remember."

The way he looked, it was as if he'd expected her to forget. As if she ever could. Even as a little boy, Toshiro had possessed a strong sense of what was right and wrong, which applied to all aspects of life. On one occasion, she'd accompanied him and his family to dinner, where he'd insisted upon ordering from the adult menu, complete with a steaming cup of coffee. When the food had been delivered, the boy had taken one bite before grabbing his napkin, sputtering into the cloth. The drink had burned his tongue, and he'd proclaimed that it was just dirt and water in a cup.

He'd hated it since.

"You're not here to talk about me," he said, shaking the snow globe that had sat on the corner of his desk. His eyes looked up to meet her, seemingly disappointed. "You came for something else."

There was no time for words, his hand darting into a drawer to withdraw a stack of folders. If Retsu had counted right, there were about seventeen, easily matching the number of victims in the case. It made her wonder where he was going with this. The folders, all dull gray in color, were dropped in front of her, Toshiro reaching over to open the one that sat atop the stack. He flipped a few pages, pulling them towards himself, reading the records upside-down. His eyes widened suddenly, finger stabbing the top of one of the pages, looking rather grim.

She looked it over, even referencing the photos, finding nothing strange about the report in the slightest. Retsu looked up at him, eyebrows raised. "It looks fine."

Toshiro sighed, hanging his head. "That's the problem. It's too damn perfect. They all are." He jabbed another line on the page, that familiar scrawl staring up at her. "He chronicled details that couldn't have been determined just from an examination of the corpse. If there's no gunpowder on the body or clothing, then how the hell could he have known it was on the scene?"

A good question, but Toshiro's implication was unthinkable.

"Photographs," she argued pointedly, turning the page. "You do include photographs in the file before the autopsy, don't you?"

He looked taken aback, opening his mouth several times before exhaling the breath that he'd held in. "Okay. You win." The captain raised his hands in defeat, allowing them to fall into his lap. "But that doesn't mean I trust him. You might, but I think that's a mistake."

"That's actually why I came." She remembered the previous evening when she'd been sitting at home, Mayuri's distant tone echoing through the phone. Distraction was all she'd sensed, and not the kind that made the gears turn in his head. "What happened yesterday?"

Toshiro looked positively guilty. "I said some things," he replied flatly. "A little girl was killed, and he didn't seem the least bit bothered by it." He was trembling, eyes on the floor. "Said that looking into her death was a waste of time... That he makes it a point to avoid emotional attachment."

Now, the first part of that was easy enough to believe. Mayuri had said more than once that he couldn't stand children, what with their noise and constant need for attention. But, if the latter portion of that statement were true, then what was she doing with him? If he had said that, was it some way of implying that she was included?

"What exactly did you say?" There was really no point in asking. She already had a pretty good idea.

White hair hung in his eyes, making him look even more ashamed. "I'd rather not repeat it..."

The blaring of the phone caused the two to jump, Toshiro's hand snapping it up with precision. She didn't hear what he was saying to the person on the other end, let alone register how pleased he looked. Retsu had other things on her mind, curious as to whether or not this boy had managed to get a rise out of Mayuri that even she couldn't. If he had, she wouldn't envy him. She'd just have to integrate his methods into her own.

The receiver slammed against the side of the desk, just loud enough to get Retsu's attention. She looked up expectantly, trying not to let on that Toshiro's unknown words had sent her mind reeling. He was looking disheartened again, standing and heading towards the door, motioning for her to follow.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking up at her. "You need to leave. We've found another victim."

"Who?" It was the first thing she'd thought, only to come out of her mouth at the same moment. Even if he told her that it wasn't her concern, she'd insist. At least Toshiro would give her the satisfaction of knowing rather than being kept in the dark all the time.

His hands fell into the pockets of his pants as he walked down the hallway, staring straight ahead. "This is a big city, Retsu," he said matter-of-factly. "One of the biggest in the world. I doubt you knew him, let alone heard about him, but he's a street vendor in the area. We were trailing the man due to our suspicions that he was dealing in illegal drugs, but..." A sigh. "Looks like we'll have to close that case."

Street vendor? That sounded so familiar. There was a face in her mind, one that seemed to appreciate the world, but she couldn't quite place a name beneath it. What was it?

"On second thought, you should come," he said, checking his uniform for his badge and gun.

"Why?" To the police, she was just a civilian. If anything, she would have expected Toshiro to, again, tell her to go home. He'd asked her before, so why the sudden change? What could she do that his men couldn't?

He rubbed his head sheepishly, looking a bit embarrassed. "I wasn't going to tell you. I _shouldn't _tell you, but I can't do this myself. Mayuri won't talk to me. At least, not without making it difficult."

"He's there?" Retsu said, jaw dropping. "Mayuri's... But how? When I left, he was..."

Toshiro took her hand, leading her down the hallway to the doors as a patrol car pulled up by the curb. "He found the body."


	22. Denied

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 22: **Denied

* * *

><p>Being awake before eight was one thing, but being forced to stick around a crime scene was something else. It had been an accident, coming across the victim after handing off the screaming three-year-old to the caretakers who watched her each day, but now he was stuck here, caught under the little prodigy's thumb. And it was about to rain.<p>

"You knew him. Kisuke Urahara."

The captain stood shaking his head, his lip curling in sheer disgust. He looked perturbed, disbelieving that something like this could happen. Of course, it could. There was a murderer wandering idly about the streets, enjoying the chaos he'd bred into the web.

The way the boy had spoken the name was enough of a reason to believe that the police had been trailing the man on suspicions of drug trafficking.

Mayuri didn't say anything.

"I didn't think this would happen," Toshiro said, leaning against the patrol car. "Shocking."

It wasn't that much of a surprise, really. More of a blatant disappointment. The idea that this idiot had been stupid enough to be killed was maddening. He'd always claimed to have that sixth sense, one that allowed him to measure hostility and the like. It had always been bullshit, even when they'd both been children, but this was just one more reason for him to confirm that the bastard had been trying to make some kind of lasting, infantile impression.

And to think that Mayuri had given him credit for lasting this long with his head in a shark tank.

The boy was tapping his foot against the curb, rings beneath his eyes. It must have really bothered him that someone else had been killed on his watch.

"You'll do it," he said, an order. "You'll cooperate with my investigation, even if it kills you."

A good thing he wasn't doing the autopsy, because he wouldn't have any qualms about distorting what was left of the man. Truthfully, he'd enjoy that quite a bit.

"You're upset."

Not in the way she believed. He was pissed that Kisuke had gone and gotten himself killed, but that was it. Mayuri didn't get upset about stupid things like this. He didn't allow pointless things like emotion or memories get the better of him. Besides, the man had always been nothing short of a nuisance. He'd wanted him gone from the moment they'd met.

Now that he was gone, maybe there would be peace.

Hung on a flagpole. Whoever this killer was, it wasn't the same bastard he'd been chasing all this time. The real killer wouldn't have pulled such a juvenile stunt, painting graffiti on a corpse and stringing it up for the city to see. It was probably some screwed up delinquent who had been refused drugs by his victim. Hell, it could have been the gangs for all he knew. Kisuke had garnered a reputation for dealing with them.

Whatever the reason, it wouldn't be surprising. Every suspicion would have the same thing in common: Kisuke Urahara was a natural idiot.

"Any ideas? Is there anyone who would want him dead?" The boy captain was standing quietly on the curb, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat.

Mayuri shrugged, wishing the child would cease with his pathetic, well-planned reasonings. He wanted to "clean up the city for the sake of the people." It sounded like something that would come out of a political speech rather than from the mouth of a boy. That's probably where he'd picked it up from, being so interested in the goings on of this rotten place.

"Figure it out," he growled, watching the child's disdain grow.

The boy couldn't stand him, just like the majority of the people he came into contact with. But it was fine, as it meant that he'd have fewer idiots on his heels trying to be civil. It didn't bother him that they went out of their way to try and irritate him. There were far worse things people could do than shoot off a few snide remarks about his sanity. It didn't mean nearly as much to him as his intelligence.

White hair fell into the captain's eyes as he turned, handing out orders to his officers. He wanted the place cleaned up before the storm hit, saying that they probably had an hour at best.

"He thought he was a cut above everyone else. Idiot. Who's the genius now? You, or the bastard who took you out?" It didn't even register that he was laughing, and that Retsu was looking more disturbed by the second. "And I'm not upset."

She didn't say anything, just pressed her back against the wall and slid down to meet the sidewalk to rest her head on his shoulder. If anything, it was sad that he'd dragged her into this. That he'd made her believe that there was something she could do. It hadn't been intentional, but here she was, believing that everything he felt was something she needed to feel, too. That she could do something for him.

Not that she'd understand he was a hopeless case.

"You're lying," she said quietly, her grip tightening. "You can't tell me that you don't feel anything about this. That it doesn't bother you somehow."

That much she had down.

"It's just funny."

There it was. The bewilderment. "What is?"

Mayuri had a hand over his mouth, trying to keep his laughter quiet. The last thing he needed was to attract any unwanted attention. It wouldn't do if the police thought him incapable of going about the work they handed him. "He's dead, but I didn't get to kill him. Damn."

Retsu stood, grabbing him by the arm and pulling until he followed. She ducked beneath the police line, leading him through the crowd of people who had gathered to watch the officers remove the corpse. They were pushed aside as Retsu dragged him along behind her, ignoring the protests and curses that were thrown her way. She was obviously too focused on something else to care. Many of the bystanders, those who were well out of the way, were asking questions, curious as to whether or not the incident had been a murder. Suicide, some said, but Kisuke hadn't been quite that stupid. An intolerable idiot, but not insane.

She rounded the nearest corner, easily shoving him into the wall. Had it been true, he would have said that it was fortunate for her that he was a pushover. Smoke seemed to hover in the air around her, brimstone in her gaze. There wouldn't be any dodging of questions today. Her intensity assured that.

"You didn't mean that," she stated firmly, referencing his previous statement. "Say it. Say you were lying."

He shouldn't have said anything; should have let her wonder as he usually did. What he'd said about Kisuke had been true, and it had been one of the things he hadn't wanted her to find out about.

"No. I wanted him dead." The words came naturally, leaving some sort of calm behind. "I just didn't want anyone else to kill him. I made it a point to do it myself; spent years looking for the art opening. I just didn't get the chance."

It flew, her hand, stinging the side of his face. She was clearly outraged, but not so much as to allow any other emotions to creep in. Good thing, too, because seeing her cry would have made this worse.

"Tell me you're lying," Retsu demanded. "Tell me."

She was working to fight it off, her eyes hidden behind a wave of hair as she hung her head. To her, it seemed to be a nightmare. One filled with the dread of believing that he'd planned to kill someone. But why would she want to hear a lie? Retsu prided herself on ethics and morals, trying vainly to teach him the same. She'd always insisted on truth, walking across falsehoods as if they existed as nothing more than the gravel beneath her feet.

It was ridiculous, the idea that her pleading was making him feel even somewhat guilty. She leaned into him, her voice quiet as she pleaded again. If he told her he'd only been saying things, would she believe it? Or would she know that he was trying to please her?

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"They're just words. They don't mean anything." A repulsive and pathetic lie.

Retsu seemed to relax, the tension fleeing her form. "Good."

To kill Kisuke with his own hands... Really, he'd meant it.

****# - # - # - #****

She wasn't the least bit pleased, regardless of the fact that Uryu had come to get her for an outing. In fact, she was rather disturbed by the ideas, the images, inside her head. They were like a slide show, flashing before her eyes in slow motion. It was as if they had a will of their own, perfectly content with tormenting her.

They thought she didn't know; that she was still an ignorant child. Were she to say anything about it, the two of them would probably be blown right out of the water, forced to give her more credit.

The only problem was that it was too much, too revolting. That's why these made-up images were bumming her out. This was a time where she didn't want to play make-believe.

It hadn't been much, what she'd seen. Just Retsu pulling her father into her mother's room. It had turned her insides upside-down almost enough to make her want to scream. To her, that place was sacred. She'd spent so many nights crawling beneath the sheets and between them after nightmares, falling asleep in her mother's arms while she'd been talking to family or friends on the phone. Little things had made that room important, and now all that purity was gone.

Maybe, if he'd actually used it she wouldn't have cared so much. But he seemed to have silently conceded that place to a memory, as if the room were the final resting place. Pretending that his cold behavior didn't bother her was something that she was willing to push aside. But going about with another woman behind those walls was something she wasn't sure about letting go of.

Looking at Uryu, the way he'd light up as they walked, Nemu thought that, maybe, she understood her mother's request all that time ago. The one about not rushing into things when she'd gotten older. She believed that that's what had happened to her mother. That she hadn't taken enough time to seriously consider everything about what she was doing.

Not surprising, given who she'd ended up with.

It was just another question to answer, but one where she could easily find evidence. Her mother had left several mementos behind, sentimental items stored in boxes that now sat, untouched, on the shelves in her closet. She'd have to look into this now, even if the most believable answer was rooted in her head.

At least, for the moment, she'd try to enjoy herself.

****# - # - # - #****

"Start talking."

Toshiro leaned over the table, a dour look on his face. Really, he had little reason to believe in Retsu's plea. That which insisted Mayuri was innocent. A far cry from the truth so far as he was concerned, but reasonable given her position in all this mess. It would certainly be something if it were true. Still, he needed to maintain his professional behavior. He couldn't be biased based solely on the fact that the man was a complete bastard.

Even so, he looked rather bored. Almost as if he were expecting Toshiro to up and quit playing whatever game he'd imagined. It was really getting under the captain's skin.

"I have better things to do than play this stupid game with you," he said curtly. "This is the only shot you get before I charge you with the murder of Kisuke Urahara. What do you say to that?"

"This is a waste of time," came the reply, which was really more of a growl than anything else. "You know as well as I do that you're doing this based on a personal grudge. You just can't stand the fact that the Board would hand someone like me a medical license. That'll make for an interesting topic in court."

_It's just bait,_ the boy thought, his brow furrowed. It was one thing to show disdain, but another to let it get the better of him. A mistake he wouldn't make again. He had reason to believe that, now, this case wasn't just about a psychotic killer who had taken the wrong woman as his first victim. It was probably about him now, too. And all because Toshiro had shot off his mouth about the other man's motives.

"That has nothing to do with it," he said, fingers drumming on the table. "Consider it this way: You were the last one to speak with Mr. Urahara, and the first to be on the scene with the body. Don't tell me that, were you in my position, you'd dismiss this kind of evidence."

Mayuri shrugged. "You couldn't hold that up in court even if you put a brick wall behind it. It's meaningless, and you have no real proof. _And _you have no medical examiner, either."

"I'll find another. Perhaps one who knows how to take orders."

He'd expected another smart remark, but ended up with nothing. Toshiro would prefer to argue with Mayuri than to deal with an eerie silence and those eyes. He couldn't pinpoint it, but something about them chilled him. It was reminiscent of something from a horror film, wherein the hero and his steadily dying friends are constantly being watched by the evil they were supposed to vanquish at the end. The concept of mythical, flesh-eating creatures didn't faze him in the slightest. It was the idea that he might be in the presence of an unhinged and methodical killer that was eating away at him.

The captain wasn't afraid in the slightest, but he was hoping that Tachibana hadn't allowed Matsumoto to run the equipment behind the one-way glass. If he had, Toshiro would have nothing. No evidence that the interrogation, which was being treated like a boring conversation, had ever occurred. With this thought in his head, he felt anxious, pushing himself out of the steel chair and crossing to the door.

He had to make sure this was caught on tape. It was standard procedure, after all.

"Kisuke had plenty of people after him. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that the Yakuza got to him before I could."

Toshiro turned on his heel, an indescribable look upon his face. It wasn't shock, nor curiosity. It just was, and it worried him a bit. He wasn't sure he'd heard that correctly. Now, he understood that Mayuri couldn't stand incompetence, even in the most minor of fashions, but for him to openly say that he'd been planning to kill Kisuke Urahara was something he couldn't ignore. At least it served a purpose. Toshiro had every reason to keep him under surveillance.

"'Before you could?'" he repeated, leaning against the door. "You ought to explain that. It may be taken out of context."

It was pissing him off again, the mocking laughter. "What kind of fool do you take me for, Captain? Do you honestly think that, as much as I couldn't stand him, I'd be stupid enough to kill a man in the street? There would be no satisfaction in doing it so openly. It's like the high a child gets when he's done something wrong. The thrill is in not being caught." A smile. "You're a boy, Toshiro. You ought to remember what that feels like."

"Even so, you're looking more and more guilty by the minute," the captain said, knocking on the door. "You don't leave here until I say otherwise. Until I've determined whether or not you're at fault. Do I make myself clear?"

"I suppose I ought to make a few phone calls then."

Damn. Toshiro really hated that smug grin.


	23. Porcelain, Like Dolls

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 23: **Porcelain, Like Dolls

* * *

><p>She hadn't believed it at all, not a single word. But she'd asked for it, and he'd given it to her. A lie. And still, even with her request being acknowledged, it hadn't made a difference.<p>

It wasn't so much that he'd complied with her wish, she very much appreciated that. It was the idea that he'd say something like that, admitting that he'd wanted Kisuke Urahara dead for so long, eager to off the man himself. It wasn't particularly surprising, but it was still somewhat disturbing. And now, because he'd been there before anyone else, Toshiro was treating him like the prime suspect.

Appalling, that her friend could think such a thing. She couldn't fathom the idea that Mayuri would really go that far. He was a bit unbalanced, but a murderer?

That's why she paced around the room, fretting to herself.

It was impossible, and should have been the easiest thing for her to deny. Not because of love, but something she couldn't name. Perhaps it was pity. Retsu knew very well that, were she to mention that to him, Mayuri would hate it. If nothing else, he couldn't stand being seen as the one at the bottom of the well. Even if that was the case.

Even worse had been Akemi's chattering from the moment Retsu had gone to pick her up. She'd started right off the bat with an eager "Where's Daddy?"

She hadn't been able to answer that at all.

It was a fortunate thing that young children slept often, as it gave her time to think without another voice echoing in her head. This whole thing must have been a mistake. Some freak accident that made itself real every now and again. She had to bet on the Yakuza, or even on some teen drug addict instead of on Toshiro's idea. She kept telling herself that it wouldn't, that it couldn't have happened that way.

When Nemu had come home from her date, she'd noticed just how flustered Retsu had been. Her response to the question had been simple: There had been a family emergency. It wasn't a complete lie. She just hadn't relayed all the facts to the girl, silently insisting that she had better things to do than worry about the state of affairs that her father had gotten himself wrapped up in. Then again, Nemu probably wouldn't have cared much either way. She wasn't on the best of terms with Mayuri.

She waited for the call that Toshiro had promised her. He'd said he would let her know as soon as something, anything, had changed. Even if it was for the worst.

Why was everything so fragile?

****# - # - # - #****

Truthfully, he hated all the useless procedures that law-enforcement officers went through. It was a lot of useless dribble that wasted precious time. Repetitive questions, threats, evidence that their idiot replacements couldn't make sense of. The lot of it was pathetic. But he'd wait. He'd bide his time until the boy captain grew tired of failure, forced to clear the charges that he was threatening him with. It would be entertaining, seeing the look on his stern little face when he came to the realization of the truth.

The door slammed, the captain wandering into the room. As per usual, he had brought a tape recorder and a notepad. So, they were going to play that stupid game again? Perfect.

"Are you finally going to tell me what happened?" the captain asked, seating himself. "It's really getting tiresome, you know. And, I would think that, after a couple of days, you'd be pretty tired of sitting in here with nothing to do."

That wasn't much of a bother, really. It was easier than being fussed over by two women and a child, and then talked down to by a teen with a chip on her shoulder. He wouldn't say it, but the irritating boy was saving him much more trouble than answering a few questions.

Mayuri sighed, looking squarely at the boy. "We've played this game enough, and I've told you what I know every time. But, if you insist on asking me again... We've already done this in Japanese. Now, do you want the answers in English or Russian?"

Toshiro rolled his eyes, clearly not impressed with the sarcasm. "The more you screw around, the longer you'll be here. How does that sound?"

"Staying here is a punishment? Please, I spend more time here than anywhere else, and I do it because I can, not because I need to."

"You're insane," he said flatly, crossing his arms.

Mayuri grinned. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Captain. It just makes the game more interesting. Now, getting back to the foreign language portion of this round, you still haven't given me an answer. I just hope you don't ask for an accent. That... doesn't go over too well..."

The captain opened his mouth to speak, likely a snide remark, but a knock on the door stopped him. He turned as a woman walked into the room, ushering him out into the hallway before whispering something in his ear. The boy nodded, pressing the notepad into her hand before his foot went to snap the door shut again, the woman having already disappeared. He stared for a moment, that classically disappointed look on his face. Again, the captain was about to move onto a new prime suspect.

Stupid boy. He didn't know who he was after anymore. Let alone what he had gotten himself into.

****# - # - # - #****

It was taking a fucking long time for the runt's forces to show up. Not that he really needed them. It was just lucky for the boy that he was, despite being one of the Yakuza, a man of his word. That's why rival gangs feared his own so much. They knew that when Kenpachi Zaraki made a threat, he made good on it sooner or later. And, due to their cowardice, he was damn sure that they hoped it was later so that they could try to get back on his good side. Not that that ever really worked. Promises were, after all, meant to be kept.

"I-I didn't do anything!" the man shouted, fearful of the gang members that surrounded him. "I didn't do a damn thing!"

Kenpachi turned on him, laughing at the look on his face. The man was rightfully horrified. And he should have been after having the guts to go up against and take out a Yakusoku, one of his men. From what had been reported to him earlier, the bastard had all but admitted to it before, but when Kenpachi himself had shown up, the fool had pulled the innocent card right out of his sorry ass. A useless tactic when dealing with a loyal gang that was spread across the city.

"Shut yer damn mouth!" he barked, the man's eyes widening. "Ya think you're smart, eh? Knockin' off one of my boys, and then havin' the gall to pretend ya didn't do it. What a sorry sack of shit you are, messin' around on my turf." Kenpachi scowled, lifting the trembling character off the ground. "Well, that was yer mistake, wasn't it? 'Cause now, you're gonna pay for it. _In blood_."

"I'm telling you, I didn't do a damn thing! I didn't kill anyone! It's all a mistake, I swear!" the man howled, eyes wide and feral. "I didn't come up with the idea! I was paid for it! They're two completely different things! Totally unrelated!"

Kenpachi grinned. Paid, was he? Well, that made this a hell of a lot more interesting. Now, instead of gutting one sorry coward, he'd end up with two. And the latter had to be the mastermind.

It wasn't supposed to be personal. He really didn't give a damn as to what happened to the city. It didn't do him much good, anyway. Well, if one excluded the business the inhabitants provided him, that is. But in regards to the criminal justice system and all that, it was useless. Having backup to take out and teach lessons to violators of his own laws worked much better than a bunch of sorry-looking, clean-cut young men in suits and uniforms. The police force was, frankly, a waste of good time and money. The boys who went on to go to the academy would have had a much better time enlisting in his gang. So, it was a curious thing that he'd struck a deal with a cop. It was almost as if he were admitting that they had some skill. Almost.

"What's this about, Zaraki?" Toshiro asked, stepping out of his car. "It better be important. I was in the middle of an important interrogation."

Kenpachi snorted, shaking his head. "From the look on your face, he was the one makin' the rules, kiddo."

The captain waved a hand, the officers in the cars behind him rushing past the two of them to pry the screaming man away from the gangsters. A funny thing, watching this little boy, this puppy, command such a force. Trained dogs, many of them twice his age, toting guns, carrying badges, and shooting down those who resisted the law. It was very impressive.

"Where the hell're ya takin' him, boy?" the man growled, watching as his captive was forced into one of the squad cars. "I ain't done with him yet! Do ya know what happens to the stupid little runt that tries to take the lion's kill? He gets eaten."

Toshiro raised his eyebrows, unamused. "I do hope that's not a threat, Zaraki. I really don't think we'd be able to fit two officers in a squad car with you. There just wouldn't been enough room." He glanced at his watch. "Now what did you call me down here fore? As I mentioned before, I was in the middle of a very important interrogation, and I should be getting back to it. My murderer isn't going to question himself, now is he?"

Kenpachi shrugged. "I didn't call ya, and I wouldn't even if the thought crossed my mind." He turned, barking at his men, "Who the fuck called the goddamned police? Start talkin' while ya still got breath in ya!"

"Kenny! Kenny, I gotta tell ya somethin' important!"

"Yer not getting' anymore damned candy tonight, 'Chiru! Now pipe down, 'fore ya get me angry!" He hissed, pulling the girl off his shoulder to place her on the ground. "Now go play, 'er somethin'. I'm busy."

She scowled, lifting her tiny foot to give him a kick. "I don't wanna!" she whined, grabbing his hand. "It's _important_, Kenny! Super-duper, extra specially, mega-ultra important! So important, that the whole world might explode if I don't tell ya! So ya gotta listen to it! Ya just gotta, Kenny! C'mon, listen!"

"Damn, you're a pain in my ass! All _right_! What is it?"

With wide eyes Yachiru looked up at him, smiling as she spoke. "'Kay, so when everybody caught the meanie who made Baldy go away, somebody said that maybe we should call the police men to come and help!"

"What the fuck? Who the _hell _would suggest something like that? I'll kick his ass!"

"That's the thing, Kenny! They didn't do it."

"Then who did?"

Yachiru grinned, pointing to herself with a tiny finger. "Me! I wanted to help, so I called the nice police men to come and help save us." She tugged on his shirt, smile growing wider. "Did I do a good job, Kenny? Huh? Did I do a good thing?"

Kenpachi grimaced, shooting the captain a warning glare as he hid a smile behind his hand. He was tempted to say that she'd done a good job, but what would that do? Just encourage her to go about "doing good" whenever someone brought it up in a sarcastic manner. He couldn't have that, but, if he didn't say something, she'd cry. At the moment, he didn't know what was worse: Having cops show up all the time, or dealing with the constant wailing of a child.

He sighed, resting a hand on her head. "Yeah, 'Chiru... Ya did a good thing..."


	24. More Than Stars

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo: the genius behind the captivating manga that started it all. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 24: **More Than Stars

* * *

><p>It was dark when the call came in, Toshiro's voice far too level for her to ascertain whether or not it was good news. She'd asked that very question, eager to have something to go on. But he hadn't given her any clue as to what it was he needed to tell her. He'd simply apologized for calling so late, and had requested that she come down to the station as quickly as possible so that they could talk in person. He said that anything less than that would be difficult. She'd asked again, but he'd only said that it was of the utmost importance.<p>

But, he'd also made mention of the fact that they'd found Kisuke Urahara's killer. The fact that he'd told her meant that, somehow, it had something to do with her.

She'd complied with his request, but certainly not alone. She didn't trust herself to drive. Her hands were too shaky from two days of worry, so she'd made a call herself, and to the only man she knew was wide awake at such a late hour.

In no less than ten minutes, he'd come to the door with a smile and a skip in his step, smoothing out the fabric of his blazer even as she insisted that the floral pattern on it was rather ridiculous with his matching rose-colored shirt. Shunsui, not the least bit perturbed by her comments, had simply taken her hand and led her to his car, humming to himself.

And so, she had waited eagerly while they drove, the flashing city lights burning themselves into her head. A pretty sight, one that would have been more stunning were it reflected in open water. She'd seen it before, the way the colors seemed to change when the city's skyline was duplicated. They ran together endlessly, like bright pastels and chalk that had been smeared across the sidewalks after a widespread rainstorm. Although, she was rather pleased that the rain had subsided for a time, even if the clouds had not.

Retsu didn't register anything else after that. All she could see were those lights, blinking at her, hopeful. It was as if she were staring through a kaleidoscope at the very same set of see-through beads for the entirety of the time. It was only when Shunsui touched her hand that they scattered, the brightly lit sign of the police station bearing down at her.

She stepped out of the car, assured that he would be there waiting when she returned, and headed for the doors, pushing past the glass and into the lobby where her young friend stood, looking very rehearsed for the moment. Had she been in the mood, Retsu might have jokingly asked him if he were trying out for the school play.

"What is it?" she asked, pulling the jacket tightly around her body. The station was colder than it had been the last time. Perhaps due to the news that she was anticipating. She just hoped that her words didn't carry quite so much bite. "What's so important that you couldn't tell me over the phone?"

Toshiro began walking in circles, his hands placed firmly behind his back. Somehow, there was a new scent in the air about him, that of rust and cigarette smoke. Maybe, she thought, he was working a second case. It wouldn't be surprising. He'd always been one to overwork himself.

Walking up to her, he looked into her eyes, taking her hand in his. He smiled sadly, shaking his head a bit. He looked sheepish as he did so, speaking only in a whisper.

"You were right. But that doesn't mean that you always will be," Toshiro said, clearing his throat suddenly. He took her by the hand, slipping something through his fingers and into hers. "I just hope you can understand that, although civilian information may come through for us, we can't blindly accept it without examining it on all fronts."

Retsu opened her mouth to question him, but he sighed, merely pointing over her shoulder.

There it was, the feeling of his hand on her neck, in her hair. A simple thing, but she'd been afraid that, somehow, some charge would be put to him, and she'd never have it again. It was just a touch. It shouldn't have meant anything. That's what she'd told herself in the beginning. That it couldn't come to mean anything. That she wouldn't let it. That it had just been one night, one moment of the purest, most sinful, elation.

And yet, here she was all that time later, hoping it would last, this feeling.

"You take orders rather blindly, don't you?" he said, breath on the side of her face. "Maybe I should remember that."

It wasn't expected, but of course he'd go straight to poorly veiled implications. Men, in her experience, could only have one thing on their mind at any given time. And, in this case, it didn't take too much imagination to determine what that was. No, Retsu knew instinctively, for she was thinking very much the same thing.

She didn't like it, being ushered back outside by Toshiro's hushed tone, but she went quietly, falling back into the warmth of the roaring vehicle outside. The heat of the seats and the chill of her skin made no difference. It was as if a barrier had gone up between them, whereas one could not siphon energy from the other. Even the warm air blowing throughout the small space made no difference. She was just cold.

Shunsui turned to look at her, that infamous smirk gone for the moment, waiting for her to fill him in on the details. Had she felt like it, perhaps she would have indulged him a bit. But, for the moment, he didn't need to know why she'd asked him to bring her into the city. She'd made something up to quell his suspicions, something perfectly believable, but he wasn't stupid. Her reason had been that there was something she needed to discuss with Toshiro, which had been true enough. She'd purposely neglected to factor Mayuri into the equation.

He was a foolish man, her friend, but he was certainly not stupid. Thus was his curious gaze explained.

"Mind if I ask what happened?"

Of course she did. But Retsu had no voice with which to tell him that. Silence would have to speak for her, her eyes darting back to the door as it opened. There was no doubt that Shunsui was surprised, not only by the fact that Retsu's ridiculously troubled love interest was sitting there, but by her sudden disinterest as she shifted a bit further away.

It seemed to have been enough for the solemn-looking man behind the wheel, as he promptly turned around and pulled out into the street.

She couldn't think. Not about the present, at least.

It was still there, the little roll of paper that Toshiro had slipped into her hand. A paper gum wrapper. She wondered what it was for, but feared the message that was unmistakably written on the inside. Probably some sort of dark revelation in regards to the case. The kind that would, undoubtedly, affect her as well. But, surely, he would have told her. He had, after all, mentioned that they'd found Kisuke Urahara's killer. If that were the case, then she couldn't have very well been sitting in the car with him.

She turned away, snapping into place the seat belt that she'd forgotten before. The wrapper was unrolled, the name Ryota Kato printed on it.

No proof. That had to be the boy's reason for not verbally informing her of the culprit's name. Possibly some sort of tactic that he hoped would convince Mayuri to confess to the obvious crimes that Toshiro believed he was responsible for. She doubted his ideas as well as his playing strategy, regardless of any evidence, tangible or not, that her friend could have obtained. But, given the fact that they'd both walked out of the police station without a hitch, Retsu doubted there was any evidence at all.

It was a shock, the warm sensation on her skin. A solid touch, but a failed attempt to mask the undisclosed desire. Looking up, she could see that he wasn't even trying to hide it. They didn't shine like this otherwise, his eyes. As if by magic, they'd glow like the lights on the midnight horizon.

A curious thing, likely a trick of the light, that always seemed to do it for her. But not now. There was no interest in that sort of thing, pleasurable as it was. She just wanted to think. But having no voice, or will, with which to speak made declining the offer rather difficult.

Not to mention the way it seemed to soothe her.

It felt like there was nothing else. No blurred city streets on the outside looking in, no dark, starry sky staring down upon their little corner of the world. It was blissful, peaceful, despite feeling so suddenly empty. She couldn't figure how little spots of heat on her skin could be so conflicting.

Truthfully, she'd missed it, despite the emotion having been absent for a few short days. That singular idea that, months before, had seemed simply repulsive. She wouldn't lie and say that she hadn't tried to get rid of him. In fact, she'd started second-guessing herself sheer moments after she'd found her clothing falling away that first night. Having imagined him to be nothing short of a sadist, Retsu had tried to deter him with everything in her arsenal.

The failure had proven something rather different: Mayuri was a bit of a masochist.

She'd forgotten that Shunsui was there, his eyes peering into the mirror to catch a glimpse of what was going on. It was only when she looked up that Retsu saw that he was grinning. Fortunately, all coverings were still very much intact. If he hadn't been driving, she would have turned his face back to the road in front of them. But that, she knew, wouldn't work. Even if he wasn't the center of attention, Shunsui was the sort of man who was interested in this kind of thing. No surprise there. For as long as she'd known him, he'd been on the prowl, failing to notice that he already had everything he needed.

"Having fun back there?" he chortled, averting his gaze. "Sure looks like it."

"Maybe you should worry less about what we're doing, and more about apologizing to Nanao for your stupidity."

They had bite, her words, which was conveyed to her by two sets of wide eyes settling on her as the vehicle stopped at a light. She felt rather awkward, having spoken to Shunsui so abruptly, but she could see the entertained smirk falling over Mayuri's face.

Retsu assumed he was rethinking his earlier statement. The one in regards to her blindly taking orders.

She'd love to see how that would work out.


	25. Blue Heart

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 25: **Blue Heart

* * *

><p>It should have been a deterrent, everything she was, everything she had decided she wanted him to be. Really, he should have kept it up, the cold shoulder, and driven her away. But there had been something about her that, for whatever reason, had unmistakably charmed him. It certainly had nothing to do with how she looked. Honestly, there were like to be a million other women in the world who could have outclassed her.<p>

Plainly, he just didn't see it. There was no decided physicality that had drawn him to her, as speculation stated. He didn't know about her reasons, but his weren't quite so base. It had been more of an interest than anything else. The very same drive that brought about the entertainment of peeling flesh from bone.

If he had to give it a set meaning, if there was anything in the wold that could be classified as "beauty," that was it. Interest.

But, really, she shouldn't have mattered. Her existence should have meant nothing to him.

"You're making a mistake."

It was grim, the smile that crept across his face. Of course, Nemu wouldn't speak about his affairs openly. She'd wait until he'd turned his back before trying to convince herself, and Retsu, that everything was certain to fall apart. It would have been quite the show, watching her trying to talk such a headstrong woman out of her decision, but the whole conversation was starting out to be unusually bland. Not at all like the blaze she'd thrown at him.

Mayuri didn't turn to look. He just kept on as he was, feigning sleep.

"You're lucky," she said. "His interest in you is more than just a passing fancy. It's genuine."

The way she was talking, it sounded so... ridiculous. Hell, it sounded like something one would find on a poster proclaiming the arrival of some new romance novel. Some outlandish, pathetic idea conjured up by the mind of a starving artist.

But what could she know, being a child? What could she possibly understand about this?

"Mom made it too, you know," she went on. "She ended up someplace she never wanted to be, and then just... disappeared."

She'd been too young to know what had gone on, how it had really happened. The story he'd told her, however straightforward it had been, seemed to have made no mark. She'd simply believe whatever it was that made her happy. Or, whatever fueled the furnace. Either way, she wasn't going to believe a damned thing he said about the matter.

"I used to think it was me. That I was so inept at communicating... That I was the reason for all the silence and awkward moments." Mayuri could almost see her shaking her head. "It was only later, after her death, that I realized it wasn't me at all. It was him."

He imagined that Retsu was probably stunned by the whole thing. Standing there in silence with the squeaking child tugging at her sleeve. It wasn't too much information to digest, not if one was familiar with it, but knowing that she wasn't, he was certain that she'd start peppering him with questions later. And, of course, that meant that the night's plans would end up six feet under or deeper.

She inhaled deeply, the sound of the child's quick footsteps moving to another room. A pause, and then, "Where did your grandmother go? I haven't seen her all day."

"I don't know. She mentioned something about going out this morning, and didn't come back. I thought she'd only be out for an hour or two."

He stiffened, feeling Retsu's eyes on him. She had to know now that he'd been listening, and was likely expecting him to get up and do something about it. As if he needed to. He didn't need to babysit his mother, and he damn well didn't need her hovering, either.

Still, she didn't say anything.

**# - # - # - #**

It wasn't satisfying in the slightest that he'd allowed his prime suspect to walk right out into the streets, regardless of the fact that there was no concrete evidence. All he had was speculation and an obvious disdain for the man. But sitting there in that cold room again bothered him. The one across from him sat rigid, hunched over in the chair and chattering as he wrung his hands between breaths.

Based on his records, the man had never done anything wrong. No traffic tickets, no public disturbances, nothing. He'd just turned twenty-five, and had been working in a local coffee house for the last eighteen months, scraping by with minimum wage earnings. Stranger still was the fact that he'd looked incredibly pleased upon hearing the charges read to him. His eyes had especially started to flare when Kisuke Urahara's name had been mentioned.

Toshiro never thought he'd see a more disturbing man than Mayuri.

"Ryota Kato." He spoke the man's name with a sort of reverence, not wanting to wind him up any further. The eyes that had been plastered to the floor looked up at him. "Ryota, do you know why you're here?"

The captain watched him shake again before sitting up straight in the chair. That was it, right there. The very behavior that had the boy convinced that this man was his killer. Ryota was suddenly presenting himself as though he were some sort of white-collar worker, perhaps a high-ranking CEO of a popular company. It was sickening.

"Of course," he said, stiff as a board. "You're trying to interrogate me. To get me to say something you can use to put me away. You _want _me to confess. You want me to _lie_. You're _looking _for ways to get rid of me!"

Toshiro had been afraid of this, having watched the man for a good forty minutes. It could have been some sort of deep-seated trauma, or maybe even a recent accident. Perhaps his run-in with the Yakusoku Gang had left him unhinged. From what he'd seen, it wasn't common for people who ran into Zaraki to completely return to their normal behaviors. They'd always be looking over their shoulders for him.

But, whatever it was, Ryota was clearly on edge. Maybe even on the edge of a meltdown.

A search of his shoddy apartment had shown that he was hoarding illegal substances, and a multitude of other... instruments, inside his mattress. Far too much for him to use on his own, which had lead to Toshiro throwing a drug-trafficking charge into the mix. That one was solid enough, but he wanted to hear the man confess to the killing. That way, they could be certain as to why a set number of bungee cords had been thrown into the furnace.

"I don't want you to lie." Toshiro spoke calmly. "I want you to tell me what's bothering you. You know I'm not here to hurt you, Ryota."

There was a warning going off in his head. A memory of another supposed killer they'd been tailing weeks before. Futatsu Ryogawa. They'd had him on multiple charges. At least until he'd been dropped in the middle of the street with a bullet in him. After Ryogawa, they'd picked up Ichimaru. Following him, it had been Aizen, Nnoitra, and Mayuri. Ichimaru had managed to obtain a solid and reliable alibi, thanks in-part to Matsumoto, and had been released accordingly. Aizen, due to past suspicions and recent proof and testimonies, had been sentenced to prison. Nnoitra had been transferred to Shinjuku where the majority of his crimes had been committed. Toshiro had heard nothing about him since.

And he didn't even want to think about the possibilities, or reasons, that would come his way if Mayuri had a hand in all this. Sorting out murder cases wasn't something he favored, but he'd certainly end up hating it far more if he were forced to go through, and decipher, the hundreds of autopsy records the man had filed over the last seven years.

Finding this "Irooni Killer" was more than just a pain now.

"The shopkeeper..."

His hand shifted, thumb pressed firmly into the recording device he'd taped under the table. Hisagi had, for whatever reason, taken a flavored soda into the recording room, only to spill it over the usual equipment they used for interrogations. And, as such, Toshiro had been forced to send out a request to have it all replaced immediately. Looking to his watch, he realized that the replacement parts should have arrived over an hour earlier.

"Kisuke Urahara, you mean." The boy leaned back, one hand on the table while the other rested on his belt. A precaution.

Ryota nodded, lifting his gaze to the captain. He seemed to pause, his trembling then gone. He hadn't wanted a lawyer, hadn't wanted to call anyone, hadn't even complained when they brought him in for questioning. The man had just kept muttering nonsense to himself.

"What would happen," he said, "if something happened to her?"

_Karin..._

Toshiro didn't move. Just kept his breathing steady, and his eyes level. He remembered, when Tachibana had dragged the man in, that Karin had been outside talking with Matsumoto, who had been on her lunch break. She'd said that they had run into one another at the market further into the city, and had walked back together. And, if Karin had been there, Ryota would have seen her _with _him.

"_I _didn't kill him. _You _did. Youdidn't stop him from playing games with people. Advertising in the streets, only to turn down offers when customers arrived. Business doesn't work that way. The customer is always right... Always right..."

"Are you saying you killed him, or not?" His patience was waning, and he could almost hear the door of the recording room closing. His officers had likely caught onto the situation based on Toshiro's position.

One hand out of sight. It was the clue when all equipment wasn't functional.

Ryota looked at him, head tilted like that of a dog in waiting. He grinned. "If you need to ask that question... then you people are fucking stupid."

The door opened, two men walking in as Toshiro stood and looked away. It wasn't a cry for mercy that followed as he slipped away, but a threat. The sort that were generally found on drastically over-dramatized television programs and in mystery novels. Bitter, wailing shouts that made him wave a hand in dismissal. He couldn't care less about what Ryota was promising to do to him. He'd heard worse things from the mouths of boys his own age.

He should have been satisfied, having video and an under-the-table recording of the man's confession. It should have warmed his heart to know that, because he'd closed down an extra murder, one unassociated with the main case, he'd be able to fulfill his promise to meet Karin for dinner at her house. They'd be able to talk without fear of duty calling him away.

But it made no difference. There was still something very wrong, and he couldn't figure out what.

Perhaps he was overreacting. Ryota Kato could very well have been the man they'd been pursuing all these months. Even so, it was impossible that he was the same killer as the one that had appeared seven years ago. Though it wasn't unheard of for an eighteen-year-old to have turned into a mass murderer, it wasn't likely in the slightest. Not in the case of this man, at least. His records had proven to the investigation that he'd been living in a southern, rural town when the killings had started, having only relocated to Tokyo after his twentieth birthday.

It was sticking with the captain, the obvious look of satisfaction as his prime suspect had walked right out those glass doors a few nights earlier.

There wasn't truly anything that could be called normal, but abnormal, at least different, certainly existed. It was far and above what went on most of the time. Often things that people didn't see, let alone had the courage to do. In his head, it all fit so perfectly. Socially inept, seclusion, lack of empathy, mildly masochistic tendencies, and a deep fascination with the secrets of the dead, almost to the point of obsession.

Even having admitted that she'd taken it all into account, Retsu hadn't given it a second thought.

"That's how he deals with personal problems, Toshiro," she'd told him. "He studies them."

As if the deconstruction of another person's body could be classified as "personal problems." Now, saying that it were a mental issue was a different story.

As much as the woman meant to him, he couldn't help finding that her so-called reasons for trusting Mayuri were riddled to the bone with errors.

**# - # - # - #**

"I don't like it..."

She always talked to herself aloud when she was alone. It gave her peace, just hearing the sound of her own voice. Made her feel like, maybe, things weren't quite so real as she knew they were. It made the world feel like the simple background of a painting. Pretty enough, but not of any real importance to the subject that sat within that Golden Spiral. It was simply there, just the way she liked it.

Nanao had seen it. A simple thing, the very sort that Retsu had said that she'd like. But that wasn't the strange part. She couldn't fathom the idea of any kind of commitment being made there. After all, it seemed that Mayuri's sole dedication was to the gruesome grunt work that had been labeled as a career. Overlooking that, and the atrocity that was his obsessive personality, maybe something would come of it.

"Nana-chan?"

"Please, go away. I'm not feeling too friendly at the moment."

It had been a mistake to sit outside, even if the air was cool and calming. Having Shunsui show up, as he had been doing these past few days, was starting to wear on her nerves. Yes, the man had made the same mistake as always, but tolerating his philandering wasn't going to cure him. Rather, it would give him the idea that he could play around and come crawling back into her arms. Well, she wasn't going to take it. He would learn his lesson the hard way, and she'd go without his company.

Not exactly a win-win situation, but she'd survived longer than a few days without him.

His arm wrapped around her shoulders, feigning disappointment. "Aw, is my little Nana-chan upset? Worrying about things that she has no control over?" He smiled. "You know, if you're looking to control things..."

"What part of 'go away' do you not understand, Shunsui?" she hissed, shoving him away. "I'm not trying to control things, I'm not pleased with you, and I am _not _letting you set foot inside my door until you learn how to behave like a man rather than a hormonally-imbalanced teenager!"

She didn't know if Shunsui had decided to listen, or to just ignore her as usual. She'd quit paying attention to him altogether. For now, he was just another source of frustration. With the dread she was feeling, she didn't need something else to fret over.

Something was about to go wrong.


	26. Open And Shut

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 26: **Open And Shut

* * *

><p>"You're so quiet."<p>

He nodded. Really, he couldn't help it, having so much weighing on his mind. Toshiro braced himself, waiting for her to speak those familiar words. Those that he'd never heeded. A plea of sorts, that he leave the Force. She'd never wanted him involved in such a dangerous line of work, his mother, but he'd wanted it so badly. Long before he'd walked through that front door and into her arms, he'd wanted it.

Maybe it was his strong heart. Or maybe it had just been a child's sense of vengeance.

Saying that he'd never wondered about their deaths, his birth parents, would have been a lie. It was a basic principle that he'd adopted, to never lie.

Really, he'd always been curious, having been very young when they'd died. For some reason, one that likely had to do with his decided profession, Toshiro had always imagined that his parents had been murdered. During the first few weeks after his admittance into the Force, he'd almost hoped that, one day, he'd end up being assigned to a cold case from the past. One that would turn out to involve him.

That moment had never come, and Toshiro had resigned himself to the fact that he might never know what happened.

They sat in silence at the table, a steaming mug of cocoa set on a coaster before him. It was to die for, and he hadn't had any in such a long time. Especially that brewed by his mother. But he couldn't drink it. He could bring himself to move any more than he already was, simply stirring the spoon, watching the cream swirl about in the little chocolate ocean. It would just be too much effort to stop and lift the mug to his lips.

"I can't figure it out," he said quietly, chin on the table and blue eyes blurring. "I have so many questions, and not even half of them have been answered. I know where I want to start, who I need to question, but I can't. There's a roadblock in my way... and I don't know how to get around without hurting her."

It was soothing, the way she moved to his side, one hand in his soft white hair, while the other rubbed circles on his back. As a little boy, she' done the same thing when he was upset. She would settle him into her lap, and rock him, often until he fell asleep among his tears. And, in the morning, the world would be better than it had been the day before. Everything he'd known before, everything that had hurt him, would disappear.

But that wasn't how the world, his world, worked. He couldn't go crying to his mother every time something went wrong. Every time someone died, every time someone was robbed. She couldn't fix the fragility that clung to his existence. That's why, each day, he had to remind himself of that truth. Of the fact that he had to take the stand and do things for himself. He couldn't lean on her forever.

Nothing could ever stay the same.

That's why people went away, why they changed. Why unseen developments went on behind closed doors... and manifested at the last second, leaving no hope.

"What would... Dad do?" He hadn't spoken of his father in a while. He just didn't like the taste of the man's name on his tongue. Bitter, now that he was gone. "He knew her better than I ever could... Retsu."

His mother smiled, ruffling his hair. "Now, what could she have to do with this, Toshiro?"

The boy captain shrugged. "It's hard to say, and I'm not supposed to talk about it, but..." A sigh. She was his mother. She wouldn't speak of it to anyone. "She's gone and gotten herself involved with the pathologist I have working on the case. And... he's my prime suspect."

That's what was really bothering him, he supposed. The idea that Retsu, likely the most sincere and caring woman he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, had gotten herself stuck in a position such as this. Now, had her personal feelings only been in the beginning stages, he wouldn't have thought too terribly about it. But the changes that had occurred over the months, having started with disdain and ended with love, were frightening. And it killed him to see that pure, unadulterated emotion in her gaze.

Especially now that she had a little girl.

"Talk to her."

He shrugged, slouching to allow his forehead to touch the tabletop. "I do. But, every time I bring it up, she shuts me down. It's... She doesn't want to even consider the possibility that she's wrong..."

"Would you? If Karin were accused of something, would you want to believe it?"

No, but that wasn't the point. It was his job to think on all fronts, to understand the perspective of the accused and the bystander, while maintaining his own dutiful persona. He couldn't allow himself to become personally invested in something of this magnitude, nor would he. Doing so would hopelessly undo everything that his investigation team had sought to obtain.

But, he supposed that, were he in Retsu's position, he wouldn't want to think rationally, either.

Toshiro pushed the chair away, striding out of the kitchen to the closet where he quickly retrieved his coat. Looking out the front window, he could see that it was getting cold outside. Clouds rolling in from the sea made him remember that it was the middle of the fall season, that winter was well on its way. He hoped, with everything in his heart, that this case would be closed before the New Year. If not, the impending fall of snow would make things much more difficult.

He didn't think that it would be an easy task for the forensic scientists on to separate snow from blood. But, then again, he didn't know anything about the process.

The boy stepped outside and onto the sidewalk, scarf wrapped firmly around his neck. It was a crisp breath of air that met him, shocking his throat and bringing him to lift a gloved hand to his face. He didn't think once to look back to see if his mother had followed him. Perhaps she'd just let him go and wait for him to come back. Thinking on it, he didn't spend a whole lot of time with her anymore. All of his was divided between sleep and work.

It was almost as if they didn't live in the same house.

"Shiro."

He could only ever bear it when his mother called him by that name. Toshiro turned, hands in his pockets. It was starting to get chilly outside, and hers was a worried look as she held a set of keys in her hand. Her eyes insisted that he take them, or, at the very least, he allow her to give him a ride. Clearly, she didn't want him to walk anywhere in this cold.

For a moment, he was tempted to accept the offer, knowing that it would be a much faster trip to Karakura if he were inside a warm car. But he simply shook his head, offering her a smile.

"I don't get out much," he said. "Besides, the weather's a nice change. I don't have to be crammed inside a stuffy office, or a wailing police car."

She turned, motioning for him to wait as she ran back inside. When she came back, there was a silver thermos clasped tightly in her hand. She didn't wait for him to move, just pushed it under his arm and hugged him.

"Don't you catch cold, Shiro," she whispered. "And say hello to Karin for me."

Toshiro hadn't even thought of Karin since he'd arrested Ryota Kato for Urahara's murder. It wasn't even for her that he was heading into Karakura. But he felt guilty. He'd forgotten that they'd made plans several times over the last few weeks, and that each one had been canceled because of his duties. Somehow, he'd have to make it up to her. Stopping by for a visit was the least he could do.

He nodded, returning the gesture. "I won't," he said softly. "I love you."

When she let go, he turned and headed down the street, cell phone in hand as he considered calling Karin instead of just dropping in. But it wouldn't be fair for him to stop by and see her for a few minutes, only to turn around and return to a bit of off-duty investigating. It wouldn't be right to get her hopes up like that.

The device was shoved back into his pocket, the gentle hissing of the wind in the half-bare trees speaking his thoughts. He went over everything he knew, everything he had considered, and still came to the same conclusion as before. It was just too clean a case. Several suspects, all of them having been added to the body count. And that, he thought, was the clincher. It would be far too simple for someone as precise and obsessed as Mayuri to remove any trace of foul play. The bodies did, after all, go to him before any and all samples were sent to the labs.

He didn't want to believe it, if only for Retsu's sake, but it was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that felt right.

As he stood idly by the bus stop, he spotted a quiet woman off to the side. For some reason, she kept looking at him and then back to the paper clasped in her hand. Perhaps she'd mistaken him for someone else.

But, when she finally approached him, he was proven wrong.

"You're Captain Hitsugaya."

Toshiro nodded. "I am. And who might you be?"

She hesitated, taking a step back and moving the scarf to cover her face. "Here." She took his hand, pressing the paper into his palm. "I have every reason to believe that your killer is in this city... And that he knows you're looking for him."

For a moment, he was certain he saw something glistening in her eyes. Something mournful, broken. "Who would..."

"Don't ask me, please. I just... know. For reasons that are my own, that's all I can tell you. Please, don't ask me for anything more. Please."

There was something in her voice that wounded him deeply. Like some unbelievable horror had been cast upon her, doomed to follow until the end of her life. Whatever it was, Toshiro knew that it wasn't simple. And, whatever the hell it was, something about this woman reminded him so much of his own worried mother.

****# - # - # - #****

"I'm not... supposed to love you."

A strange thing to say, considering how close they were. So, naturally, he felt the need to question those words, even if they turned out to be true. But, looking at her, he could see her mourning. She wanted to feel that for him.

He didn't say anything, not wanting to pressure her. It was her decision, after all. Forcing her into anything, especially to say that she loved him when she didn't, just wouldn't be right. He wouldn't be able to live knowing that he'd coerced her into telling such a lie. Still, Uryu wouldn't deny that he wanted her to feel that way for him.

"Okay. If that's what you want."

She smiled, touching his hand. "It's not that I don't want to love you. I made a promise, that's all. I promised I wouldn't... fall in love with anyone until the time was right."

Sweet, even noble, but there was still that question bubbling in his skull. No one could ever know when the time was right, which was was made it all a bit strange.

But, if she wanted to wait, then he'd stand by and wait with her.

****# - # - # - #****

"Where is he?"

Looking back for a moment, Retsu stepped outside the door, pulling it shut behind her. It wouldn't do if Akemi started asking questions. Clearly, this wasn't a simple social call. Toshiro's reasons weren't quite so simple anymore. Everything he had went into this investigation, and it seemed that, each time she found some way to relax and ignore the suspicions he'd piled at her door, Toshiro found some way to revive them.

She couldn't help scowling at him, even as he looked up at her with that innocent, boyish face. Eyes like pewter, she knew he wasn't going anywhere soon. She'd have to dissuade him somehow, even if it meant pushing him away. It would be unacceptable for her to give up everything she had, even if it were to satisfy a boy's misplaced senses. Retsu wasn't going to let him suck her back into his investigation.

"Busy," she replied quickly, remembering his question. "And no, you can't see him."

Toshiro exhaled, his breath puffing out in a cloud for a half second. The way he was fidgeting with his pockets, she knew what he wanted to do. Whip out his officer's badge and demand that she cooperate. But he wouldn't. He could stand up to every thug in the city, but, for some reason, he could never bring himself to knock her out of the way. She suspected it was his gentle heart and general respect for people.

Kirano had taught his son well.

"You're interfering with a police investigation," he said, hair falling into his eyes. "I have every reason to believe that..."

"What do you want me to do, Toshiro, pester him until he admits to murder? That's insane!" Even if she were to go that far, the answer would be the same. Besides, each time someone had dropped dead, she'd been right there with him. And, if that wasn't enough proof for Toshiro, then nothing would ever be. "I'm not talking about this anymore. I have things to do."

She turned away, but his hand caught her sleeve. "You're making a mistake, and, I know that you'll only be hurt more if you walk away."

"Don't tell me that. _Everyone _keeps telling me that," Retsu whispered. "You have no proof, and no reason, to do this. And even if you did, would you really take him away from me?"

Retsu noted the pause, thinking, for a moment, that he'd find the heart to give her the answer she needed, even if it were only for a hypothetical situation. Truthfully, she'd never had any real hope of having what she did now. People in her life, aside from patients, who sincerely depended upon her, not for health, but for love.

A heavy sigh answered the question for her. Toshiro _would, _if the time called for it, break down her world and take the most important pieces with him.

She had half a mind to send him on his way and go back to trying to put Akemi to bed, but she knew he wouldn't have it. Even off-duty, he had an obsession with this case. An admired obsession, given the fact that he was trying to put away a killer, but an irritating one in the respect that he was trying to pressure an innocent man into admitting to the crimes. Were he not being so terribly overbearing about it, perhaps she wouldn't have felt so inclined to be sharp with him.

"Toshiro, it's late." Her tone was flat, factual. "I really don't have time to play twenty questions, let alone to argue with you about things that I've decided upon."

Looking at him again, Retsu knew that he wasn't even listening to her. His gaze was distant, quiet... looking past her.

"Hello, there." He tilted his head, looking around her with a smile.

Retsu looked back, Akemi's little face peering out into the night. She looked sheepish, as though she'd done something wrong. Before anything could be said, the girl put her hands, covered with black ink, through the door. She hung her head, clearly ashamed. It would be one more thing to clean before ending the day, but it was only an accident.

She felt everything sink as the toddler opened the door, leaving prints behind as Mayuri grabbed her, holding her as though she were a wet dog. Not that she could blame him. Ink didn't seem to go too well with cloth of any kind. But, of course, he hadn't shown up just to put an unruly little girl to bed. Before they could get any better, he was going to make things with Toshiro significantly worse. She could just feel it.

"Don't you start. I'm not dealing with you tonight, too," she said firmly, turning on him. "Now, go get her cleaned up and in bed."

Surprisingly, he didn't say a damn thing. Just looked from her to Toshiro, shrugged, and ended up with a little black hand print on the side of his face.

It would have been laughable, save for the tension.

"Don't you understand?" the boy shouted as she slipped back inside. "I can't stress enough that you're making a mistake!"

Retsu shook her head. He wasn't going to listen, and she wasn't going to believe in his gut feelings, or whatever the hell they were. She was perfectly content with her life as it was, and Toshiro was not going to to take it apart.

"Toshiro," her words were quieter than she had intended them to be. No bite whatsoever. "Don't come back."


	27. Between Breaths

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 27: **Between Breaths

* * *

><p>It was like heaven, her touch. Fingers moving into places that ought not have been. Not now, at least, with all the hell going on inside his head. It all to easily explained the glass scattered across the floor, remnants of the shattered bulbs. It had just been too much to take. He couldn't handle it, the eyes, always there, always watching him so openly. They were gone now, broken, but those damned voices remained.<p>

They always found a way to make it through to him.

It was violent, the way he wanted her. If she'd give in, stop with her futile attempts to understand him, maybe he'd be able to flush them all out, put them back where they had come from, in the darkest recesses of his mind. But that was the problem right there. All these hauntings had come from within the dark.

The glass cracked beneath them, her body moving closer, hands growing anxious. She wasn't thinking the same things he was. Rather, how she could make them go away. Again, a problem, but he couldn't tell her. The thing was... she couldn't. She had no power, save that to dive him mad.

"I can still hear them... the voices..."

It was a quiet, pathetic sound. Nothing at all like it usually was, harsh and indifferent. If he'd had a choice, Mayuri would have kept that tone. It would have done more to keep her from looking at him with worry brimming in her gaze.

"What voices? Whose?" Her hands moved to his face.

She seemed genuinely spooked now. Everything about her betrayed that fact. Shallow, timid breaths, and a quiver as she moved closer.

He wondered how much she really knew about him, aside from the horribly boring little tale that had brushed past like a summer breeze. Really, he didn't even think about _her _anymore. Hadn't for the longest time. It had just been better, easier, that way. It was that intended barricade, between himself and the past, that seemed to separate him from other people. They would cling to them, the memories and the mournful days, even as the dead were swept into the ground.

People used to ask, he remembered, how he had felt about so-and-so dying or walking out of his life. Seemingly enough, he hadn't given a damn, even as a boy. Once they were gone, he had one less thing to worry about. One less... person to tell him that something he was doing was wrong.

Retsu couldn't see that, let alone understand or duplicate it. He suspected that she was so well-rounded because it had been required of her. That's what bound her and everyone else. They would adhere to the damned guidelines that had been set out for them, rarely questioning the senseless drudgery that had been shoved into their heads.

"All of them..."

Clearly, she wanted to say something, but she paused, a quiet sigh slipping between her lips.

Damn, how he needed her. It could have just been a side-effect of being buzzed again, but it felt very much the same as the last time. A darkened room, broken glass, and her eyes on him. The only difference was that she wasn't chewing him out for being drunk.

He'd ignored it before, the thoughts she'd instilled in him, and now that he had her, he wanted to get the hell away. She didn't need to know anything.

"Do you... talk to them? The voices?"

What the hell was she doing? Trying to get him to admit to insanity? No, that wasn't an option. It just wasn't possible. If it had been real, there would have been signs, obvious symptoms, that would have brought about trouble long before this moment. But, given the circumstances, full-blown insanity would have been preferable to this.

He couldn't look at her, couldn't see the curiosity and fear blurring her vision. It was so unappealing, watching her fade because he wouldn't speak. He tried to see her in a different time, one where there was nothing but that pure, unadulterated elation. Green cloth, pale white skin, and her hands, like magic. That's where all of this had started, under some rain-soaked tree at an event that he'd wanted nothing to do with.

Three steps, disdain, neutrality, and interest, had done everything.

And it was strange to think that, had she not made a fool of him that night, she would have walked right out of his life months earlier.

"She's gone, you know."

Now he just wanted to black out, if only to get away from the conversation she was trying to start. That first time hadn't meant quite so much as he'd imagined. He'd been stupid, letting Kanra have her way. Said that she couldn't, that she wouldn't, have anything to do with him without a commitment. Thinking it would come to mean something, he'd done it, and it had all ended in blood.

Retsu's hands were on him as he shook. Why couldn't she just leave it all the hell alone?

"People die... when the cease to matter. When there's nothing left for them to waste their lives on." It was getting louder, the voice in his head. It just wouldn't stop taunting him. "She didn't mean a damn thing. She was a mistake, and she's dead."

She didn't shy away like he'd wanted. If anything, she just came closer. And there it was again, that pained confusion. She was trying to figure it out.

"How could you know that?" Her hand brushed through his hair as she hovered over him. "I came to tell you that there was a call from the hospital. She was found in a hotel room this afternoon."

What the hell was she talking about?

"That's... Kanra's died years ago. I thought you..."

Retsu shook her head. "Not Kanra. Your mother."

Well, that wasn't expected at all. She kept going, explaining that Toshiro had come about during the investigation for some reason or another. He wasn't sure. He'd stopped listening as soon as the brat's name had shown up. That was the last thing he needed to think about. A persistent little bastard with a chip on his shoulder. A stupid little boy looking for a target; for someone to blame for one thing or another.

She'd probably badger him about it, but he didn't give a damn about the fact that people were dying. It didn't matter who they were or what relation that had to him.

He scoffed, shaking his head. "I don't care."

Thinking it was one thing. But hearing the words, even if they were true, felt like some sort of violent electric shock. Yes, she'd been everything for years. But, at some point, he'd just shunned the very idea of being guided through life like one of the helpless little animals that would die on the streets. It had turned into independence, curiosity, and control. Eventually, she'd become nothing more than the shadow he needed to get rid of.

Retsu had to have seen it, the obvious way he'd pretended his mother didn't exist. He'd rid himself of her, only for her to come back a good eighteen years later. It had killed the both of them to know that he hadn't given the woman a thought in what felt like ages.

She knew, so he didn't have to say it. But everything else, namely that factor that drove him, the interest, was going well over the edge. Really, he hadn't thought any of this through, playing with liquid fire while the idea, the irrefutable realization, had been on his mind.

"Could you ever... hate me?"

A stupid question, really. From what he'd gathered, she had hated him at first, or at least pretended to. She'd done everything to avoid him, only to go so far as to play the game with his own tactics. Find a point of weakness, and exploit it. Sending the opposition away in anger or humiliation.

Although unintentional, that's how she'd lured him into this. Not that he hadn't enjoyed it, of course.

"That's... Don't say things like that," she said. "You know better."

Maybe, but she was certainly capable. She'd tried, _wanted, _to hate him at the start. He'd felt it in the bite of her words.

"He was right." What the hell was he doing? If he didn't shut up, it would all spiral like blood down the drain. But if he didn't say something, they'd just keep getting louder. He had to shut them down, drown them out."Doesn't miss a beat, that little bastard. Too bad he doesn't know it."

"What did you...?"

She was making this a hell of a lot harder than it needed to be, looking as though she'd like nothing more but to get out and get away. If she had any sense in that head of hers, she'd do just that. She'd take off, and forget this. For whatever reason, he hoped she would. It would be preferable to debating with himself about an alternative ending. Knowing what he did, Mayuri was sure that the stronger impulse, that of self-preservation, would win.

"Damn, don't make me say it again."

Of course, she just crept closer. Instead of shaking like he'd expected, she wrapped her fingers in his shirt, pulling. Now that he'd gotten her started, curious, she wasn't going to just let him go.

"What was Toshiro right about?"

It was already to late, but why were they louder? If anything, the voices should have quieted down. He was giving into them, wasn't he? Why wouldn't they just leave.

"Everything." Damn, everything was starting to taste like blood. "He was right. They were mine. My... doing."

Retsu looked like she wanted to sink back into the dark, just to disappear. He couldn't blame her. That was the rational response.

"You're lying. You didn't kill them."

He should have agreed with her; said that it was just a sick joke. But he couldn't. And, to make it worse, he was almost laughing at her. She'd think he was sick, that something was wrong with him, but that couldn't have been further from the truth. He hadn't been driven to do what he did. He'd chosen it. When they were killed, people had far more wrong with them that foul play. There was always something else within, be it natural or contracted, that made the game that much more entertaining. Simply, it had been for the thrill. To slake the interest, the need, as best he could, to keep things spiraling, to watch the little bastard writhe in frustration, knowing that he may very well never find the man he needed to convict.

She hadn't wanted to believe the possibility, spread the scope of imagination far enough to consider that, maybe, there were two sides. Retsu had easily decided to say that half of what she knew was the whole. That, even if something were wrong with that, she could find the heart to pretend that it didn't exist.

"Tell me you're lying."

That demand again. The same one she'd presented when he'd confessed to wanting to kill that bastard Urahara. He'd give it to her once, the lie that she'd wanted. Retsu hadn't breathed a word of that to anyone since. She'd likely locked it away in her heart. But, could she do it with this, even if he told her again? Mayuri didn't think so.

"No."

He expected her to scream, to do something, anything, to break away. But she didn't. She just sat there with him, sweeping the glass away with a hand. Retsu did what she always did when something bothered her. She crept closer, as if being near him would make the nightmare, the one that he'd created, go away. It wouldn't, and they both knew it. All of Toshiro's accusations were spot-on, and he'd managed to fool everyone into thinking otherwise.

The only fault that fell on Retsu was the same as one of his own.

They shouldn't have happened.


	28. Half Empty

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 28: **Half-Empty

* * *

><p>When she woke the next morning, Retsu's first reaction was to get out and away. But, being a person who didn't allow emotion to rule her, she didn't move. She just sat there, curled up beneath the covers, trying to preserve the warmth that the cool morning was threatening to steal away. It smelled like rain again.<p>

It could have just been a lie. After all, Mayuri wasn't known for having the most appropriate sense of humor. She'd observed much of this as well, having noted that most of his sarcastic comments were of a rather dark nature. But there was that something in the back of her mind that assured her of the truth. It explained a few things, ranging from his secluded behavior to the fact that he rarely showed up when he told her he would. But the very idea of trying to see him as something so dark, a killer, just didn't fit.

Even so, it felt appropriate.

There was really only one thing that scared her. The possibility that he'd break. That, at some point, there would be too much strain. She didn't want that, to see him snap, but she didn't want to leave either. Retsu wanted to convince herself that the confession was nothing more than the side-effect of that damned poison he kept going back to. That could have been it. Some deep-seated addiction that kept resurfacing. Perhaps even a relapse in behavior. Some form of therapy had been mentioned at one point, but, based on how Nemu commented on her father's actions, she had the feeling that it hadn't done too much to help him.

But the thought of an addiction stuck with her. He was overly dedicated to the practice, to solving the mysteries that inevitably lead to the end of mortality. That could have been it. Retsu wasn't the best at reading people, not by far, but she knew enough about Mayuri to make a solid guess: The change that had taken place over the past seven years had likely influenced, if not triggered, all of this.

She remembered that he'd seemed hellbent on catching the killer, and that he'd seemed reluctant to tell her anything the night before. Almost as if there were only flashes of memory to confirm the suspicions he seemed to hold.

There were distinctly different ways in which he reacted with various environments and people. Counting them began to add up to, what she thought to be, an answer. She just hoped it was wrong.

What was there for her to do? It was early, everyone was still asleep, and there she was, trying to separate sense from feeling in her own mind. What would happen if she let go? It would lead to the end of the investigation, certainly, but everything else would vanish as well. Maybe it was pathetic that she'd grown to love this life so much, even the moments of discord. Regardless of the decision she made, things could get better. It could all just fade into the background, never to be heard from again. A cold case. A lie.

Retsu didn't want to go on knowing, or not knowing, what really rang true. But, if she let go, things would get much worse before they were able to improve again.

And where would that leave her? Running, probably, from the idea, making Akemi and everyone else wonder why things had changed so suddenly. But she wouldn't have to tell anyone the truth. Except Toshiro. And to think that she'd told him not to come around with those assumptions again.

Now came the question: Did she really want to let go?

****# - # - # - #****

"You're not supposed to smoke in here," he said, leaning into the door frame. "We have a code, in case you've conveniently forgotten."

As expected, he was ignored. Toshiro made a face, raising his eyebrows, as he flipped through the papers Tachibana had delivered to him. He hadn't been on-duty when the body had been found, as he'd been trying to convince Retsu that she was being foolish. A good thing, too. Based on the photographs, he wouldn't have wanted to be there.

All in all, the woman had been broken, almost in pieces. Multiple fractures and breaks, some so severe that, according to the report, it had been rather difficult for that night's medical examiner to get her onto the gurney without damaging her further. Even worse were the contributing factors. Not only was she a blood relative of the man he suspected to be the killer, but he'd also spoken to her before getting on the bus to Karakura.

It was all in front of him, the woman's records. She was a foreigner who had only received citizenship after marrying in Shinjuku almost forty years earlier. It had been that contract that had allowed her to stay. But she hadn't been properly documented. Thus, everything else that they knew about her, such as her name and birthplace, had come about through interviews with various people she'd known before returning home after her husband had died.

He hadn't been at all surprised that Mayuri hadn't been of any help in filling things in. Anything less, and he would have been even more suspicious.

Toshiro shook his head, dropping several of the papers. He couldn't allow himself to keep thinking like that. Harassing the matter further would yield no results, and he already had a man in custody who was alluding to the fact that he was guilty on all charges. But the thing that really bothered him was that Mayuri hadn't said a word of protest in regards to autopsy. In fact, the captain wasn't sure if he'd said a thing all morning.

He kept trying to think of something, anything, to say. It couldn't have been pleasant, being assigned to examine the remains of a family member. Still, Toshiro got the feeling that the other man didn't really give a damn. That, perhaps, he hadn't had anything to do with his mother in years. Not surprising.

"It's nothing personal, you know," he muttered. "I'm just doing my job, same as everyone else. Plainly speaking, you've been the most suspicious from the start. I have to make sure that people are safe. That no one else will die."

There was a loud clattering sound as Mayuri dropped what he was doing. He turned and crossed the room, pushing Toshiro into the wall, lifting the boy by his uniform. The captain grimaced, noting the obvious color change that the blue fabric was going through. He could smell latex, blood, and smoke, and it was making him sick.

It was one thing to observe an autopsy, but another to have the gore shoved into his face. And, to top it all off, the man looked positively pissed.

"People are always going to die," he snapped. "If you think you can stop it, then you're just a damned brat. Get over this idea that you can play superhero and save this city. The world, as we all know it, is dying. And the senseless ideas of a little boy aren't going to change a damned thing. You'd be smart to learn that."

Toshiro was promptly dropped onto his rump, his head smacking the wall. It was all a lie. Just another bleak outlook on the world, coming far too easily from a man who had, for whatever reason, accepted it. But he wouldn't. He didn't believe he could live that way, looking over his shoulder for shadows in the heat of day.

He hated all this pressure. It was killing the lot of them. A slow, but steady, poison. Even Matsumoto had been less than her usual, irritating self lately. In fact, she'd actually been listening to him, and had filed much of her paperwork on time over the last week or so.

"I'm sorry."

Damn, what was he doing, offering condolences at a time like this? Not that there would ever really be a time, but the thought of not saying anything bothered him. He just couldn't keep his mouth shut when things happened like this. He'd always been the one to deliver the news to the families of the victims, and, each time, he'd been prompted to apologize.

Mayuri didn't even look back. He just kept working. "There are three primary rules that everyone should understand. First, strong emotional attachment will drown you. Second, perfection, and everything associated with it, is a lie. Third..." He turned, scoffing. "Apologies make you vulnerable."

The boy captain huffed, kneeling to collect the pages that were now scattered on the floor. He didn't like the idea of leaving them there for a moment more. He wasn't fearful of germs by any means, but he knew what sort of messes were made in this part of the building. While a convenient asset, as this building was the headquarters for the city's Force, he didn't want to leave the pages there and forget about them. If he did, he'd be missing half of this woman's file, and the pages would inevitably be stained.

"Methods... the same..."

There he went again, talking to himself. Toshiro never knew when it was something pertinent to the case. Nobody did. So, as a general rule, they all had a tendency to ignore the man until he starting talking straight. With facts.

Toshiro gagged as he was pulled backwards by the collar of his shirt. The papers slipped out of his hands again, the folder going with them, as he shuffled back, trying to keep himself from falling. It stopped suddenly, Mayuri's hand grabbing him by the shoulder to spin him around. By the time Toshiro got his bearings back, he found himself staring into the woman's horridly bruised corpse.

"Don't you see?" Mayuri looked excited, as though he'd made some sort of breakthrough. "It's not the same. None of it is!"

The captain stood up straight, slapping the hand away. "I can't say that I understand. Maybe, if you'd explain..."

"It's obvious!"

Another corpse was promptly pulled out of storage, the cart coming to rest in front of him. Toshiro hated looking at them, broken and exposed, but what else was there? They all had stories to tell, and they had to be desecrated so that they could be heard.

"Look familiar?"

Toshiro looked at the body closely. Yes, this man was Futatsu Ryogawa, whose remains had gone unclaimed all this time. No family, no relatives, and thus no reason to get rid of the corpse that was taking up space in a vital storage unit. But, seeing how the commander had obtained license to keep the body for a rainy day, he really had no room to complain.

The captain dabbed absently at his shirt with a wet cloth he'd found sitting by the sink. "He's been dead for months, wrapped in ice packs and stored in a freezer... What's your point? What could be so blatantly obvious that you're the only one who'd see it?"

"The methods are different. Ryogawa's killer is the sort who discretely eliminates his victims." Mayuri was pacing around the table, eyes wide. He was over analyzing everything again."No prints, no DNA, no clothing fiber. The thrill of the hunt is the motivating factor. Outdoing your little team at every turn. As for our newest victim, she fought back. Based on every other corpse you've brought in for examination, it doesn't add up. The one you want doesn't attack his targets. He just... kills them."

He wasn't sure he'd heard all of that correctly. Ryogawa had been murdered by the Irooni Killer, and Larisa Alkaev hadn't?

The boy pressed a hand to his forehead. Gods, this just couldn't be happening. Just when he thought he'd narrowed down the suspects, even caught the original culprit, the maze just grew darker. He cursed his bad luck.

"Give it to me in the plainest of terms..."

He didn't like the look in Mayuri's eye, even if he couldn't quite place it. A bullet in a small jar was then placed onto the table. "The ballistics report came back. It's the same caliber that you're carrying." The mania seemed to have dissipated, if only for the moment. "You have a copycat killer on the loose, Captain. An officer, no less."


	29. Colorblind

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 29: **Colorblind

**A/N: **Lemon.

* * *

><p>Half the night he'd sat awake, thinking. Even when his mother had retired to bed, Toshiro had sat in the dark kitchen, wondering where he'd gone wrong. He'd sat there quietly, watching the coffee maker on the counter top as it boiled the addicting drink. Had he not been so hung up on the case, he would have ignored it entirely. He had known that it would completely wreck his schedule, but Toshiro hadn't cared. Even if his mind were at risk of turning to mush, he'd sort this all out.<p>

The assumption that was on the table was simple enough to accept, but complicated in meaning: Two different methods of murder, and multiple victims. At the very least that meant two separate killers, likely in competition if they knew about one another.

The youth hadn't considered that possibility at all. No one had. Well, that was a lie. Tachibana had suggested it at one point, but Toshiro had ignored him. Truthfully, he hadn't wanted to consider the idea that he'd have to hunt down two murderers. But that's what this whole case had been made up of. Catching killers, demons, ghosts. He'd ruled out three potential suspects, putting one away for other crimes, and had caught the fourth suspect who had run about with red hands.

Four players were down and out of the game, easily disqualified. Two more were still rolling the dice. With himself in play, that made three.

Toshiro didn't know how he was supposed to feel anymore. Irritated, distressed, frightened, confused. Nothing seemed to fit. Except lost. It was a very draining sensation, wandering around like this. When he tried to imagine his own face through these moments, all Toshiro would see was his back as he kept walking, trapped in some long, wide room where the colors had blended into darkness. Not even a window, a point of hope, for light.

The coffee could certainly dispel sleep, but it couldn't get rid of that urge he'd had of late. His father would have been sorely disappointed, but Toshiro had just wanted to quit.

****# - # - # - #****

"Wake up."

She couldn't have known it, but Nemu rolled onto her side, bringing herself closer to the wall. It was necessary for her to get up, of course, but if she did, this world would all float blissfully away, perhaps never to return. That was the problem with dreams. Few people had the ability to bring them back at a later time so that they could finish what had been started. She was one of the majority who couldn't do a thing with dreams. They just went the way they wanted to, leaving her to be the spectator.

It grew dark again in her mind, only to open again with warm light and the smell of freshly cut grass. Looking around, she could see crowds of people gathering around cages and pens. Tiny hands fell at her sides, her face turned as though she'd been sleeping, the ground moving steadily beneath her as she hovered.

"Look who's awake."

How long had it been since she'd heard that kind voice, even in a dream? Several days, if not weeks. Nemu tried to move towards it, to climb down from wherever it was she sat, but there was no control. As she felt herself being lifted, her little fingers curled, clinging tightly to her perch. There another voice, the one that she'd hoped wouldn't show up in this dream, that spoke in ways that she couldn't understand.

It was then that she was set into her mother's arms, soft eyes looking down at her. Just where and when was she? The ground seemed so far away when she leaned over, and the world just seemed so much brighter than it had in quite some time.

"Why does she always do that?"

Nemu watched as her mother smiled, laughing. "She's just a baby. It's part of how they learn."

That's when she saw him, looking at her, almost fondly. It made her remember how it had been when she was little. The way he'd carry her around on his shoulders. And, every time, she'd somehow fall asleep, finding her comfort in being close to someone she knew and loved.

How had it all changed?

Her eyes opened slowly, the mist of sleep making the room appear blurred. She lifted a hand to her face, rubbing it away. When it cleared, she was surprised to see that Akemi was sitting at the foot of her bed, tugging on the blankets.

"I did it! I did it, Daddy!" she exclaimed, bouncing up.

Her eyes followed the laughing toddler until she ran to the threshold of the bedroom door, raising her hands and being lifted off the floor.

She knew he was there, probably watching her, but Nemu didn't want to see him. She didn't want that last moment of her dream to be blown away by what was in her world now. It really was childish, clinging to a dream, to a place that could never be again, but that's what she needed. To know that, at some point in her life, everything had been stable and complete.

Nothing had really changed these past few months. Not for the better, anyway. It had all gone on as usual, the obvious discord and tension between the two of them.

She sat there quietly, still covered by the sheets, peering at the clock that sat across the room. One, two, three... How much longer would it take? She didn't want to spend the first part of her day avoiding a staring contest with him. She didn't have to. Even so, Nemu didn't want to say anything. It took something serious, something _important_, to get him riled up. But, even if he wouldn't' be upset with her for telling him to leave, she didn't want to do it.

"I... I have to get ready for school," she said, casting a sideways glance at the door.

Nemu didn't like what she saw. Her father wasn't even looking at her now, but at Akemi, who had discovered that, if you pushed the button on the top of the pen, the tip came out. And he was almost smiling. At the very least, he looked the way he had in her dream. As close to content as he could ever be.

But, when he did look at her, she just wanted to melt into the floor.

He shrugged. "Breakfast," he said, "when you're ready." And then he was gone.

She pulled herself out of bed, crossing the room quickly to close the door. It was one of the things she sincerely hated about her life, the completely awkward way they communicated with one another. Never being close, never really understanding how his head worked or why he did the things he did. It was as if they were just roommates rather than family. Nothing common between them, save it be blood and a name.

A fresh school uniform was taken from the closet, laid out on the bed as she stared out the window. Rain again. Another day for an umbrella and rain boots to keep her school shoes from being wet and damaged. The slate gray outfit went on easily over a thin white shirt. She never liked wearing the uniform on its own. It was just habit to do things this way.

Her hair followed, braided just so and left to fall down her back.

Everything was the same as it had been all this time. Boring, dull, even depressing.

It was a slow walk down the stairs, the kitchen busy as Akemi flipped a bowl onto the floor, expressing her deep dislike for the juice and okayu that she'd been given to eat. And, of course, she hopped out of her seat, and ran around to the next room, likely to watch television.

She paused on the steps, backing up a few so that she'd go unnoticed. It was rather sickening, knowing the things that went on behind closed doors. It had nothing to do with the act so much as the emotion behind it. She'd be willing to bet that, every time it went on, he forgot more and more about her mother.

And so, the moment she saw them get close enough, Nemu tromped right down the stairs, hitting the floor with a loud thud. Naturally, Retsu behaved as though nothing had been happening, which was greatly appreciated. Even at her age, being educated as to how adults behaved, Nemu didn't need to see anything at all. In fact, it made her stomach sink whenever she saw her father kiss the woman.

"Good morning, dear. Are you hungry?" Retsu asked, smiling.

Nemu just shook her head. "Not really. I have to get to class early," she lied. "For a project. I'll just... get something at school."

She sat down at the table, poured herself something to drink, and tried to ignore the obvious way his golden eyes followed Retsu around the room.

"I have to get Akemi ready to go," she said, and walked out of the kitchen.

Great. She was alone with him. Again. Finishing the last of the drink, Nemu pushed away from the table, and turned to fetch her school bag.

"You really need to get over this."

Perhaps, but he wasn't saying it because he cared. He was saying it because it would work out in his favor. In more ways than just one.

"I am over it," she replied coolly. "I don't mind that she's here. I like her. She's good to me." Throwing the bag over her shoulder, Nemu turned on her heel to look at him. "What I don't like is the fact that you take everything else into consideration. Everything. And, because I'm a product of something else, something you weren't happy with, I'm left out of the equation."

"Don't tell me you're still hung up on that." A pause. "Fine. What do you want? What am I supposed to do about it?"

She'd honestly expected a lecture. Some useless amount of information that didn't pertain to her statement at all. That's how he'd get her to stop nagging him when she'd been a little girl. She would get lost in trying to understand everything he'd said, and thus forget what the main point of the conversation, at least the start, had been.

"My friends," she said. "I want to have my friends over again. For them to stay the night like they used to. There isn't enough time to do anything with them at school."

The clock kept ticking, and she noticed that there was little more than fifteen minutes to get to school. So much for a project. But he'd likely figured out that it had been a worthless lie so she could get away.

"When?"

"Tonight."

He looked a bit surprised, watching her from across the room. "It's Monday. You have school tomorrow."

Nemu shrugged. "I always get up. I'm always ready on time. It won't make much of a difference."

Her father leaned back in the chair, looking towards the other room as if he were expecting Retsu to show up and give the answer for him. Naturally, he didn't want to deal with what she wanted or needed. And to think that she'd been expecting something different.

"So long as you go to school, it's fine."

She nodded, turning to grab her jacket, smiling as she pulled it around herself. It wasn't too likely, but maybe things could change before she finished school and moved away. A long shot, but she liked to think that some things would get better.

Nemu unlocked the door and stepped out, turning back only to announce that she was leaving before closing it tightly behind her.

On the days like today that she made it to school by herself, if going the usual route, she'd often run into classmates or friends. But today, a cold, quiet morning, she didn't feel like talking to anyone else.

It made her wonder why she'd minced so many words before leaving.

The long way was much more to her liking at the moment. Down the alleyway a couple blocks south before heading east again. No one took that route to school. Even if she ended up being late for class, she just needed some time alone to think about things, about how it all seemed to turn in a circle and walk back through her front door. With everything that was going on, the investigation and whatnot getting in the way, it really seemed as though fate had it in for her and the people she was close to.

Based solely upon age and lack of real experience, people generally believed her to be ignorant to the goings-on of the world. Well, they would be quite surprised to know that she could prove them wrong were they only to stop and listen for a moment.

But, of course, the majority just didn't operate that way. That's why she said so little. Very few people would sincerely take the time to hear and understand her perceptions. And, as a result, the adults, whom she came into contact with each day, had developed the magical mindset which insisted that something in her life was going horribly awry. Naturally, they didn't give a damn about the fact that she was always honest in her dealings.

No, they just wanted to believe that, in one way or another, she was nothing less than a puppet.

"You're late, you know."

She smiled, turning to see Uryu walking beside her. "So are you."

He shuffled awkwardly along, hands shoved into his pockets as he tried to bury himself behind the scarf around his neck. Nemu hadn't even noticed that a chilled wind had picked up until the ends of the scarf started fluttering.

There was silence between them, and it made her feel cold. Much more than the weather was doing. Perhaps he'd been dwelling on what she'd told him during their last date. That she'd made a promise, so many years ago, that she wouldn't just fall in love with anyone. But, being around him, it didn't seem like Uryu Ishida was _just _anyone.

There were plenty of boys at school, in her class, who seemed to know how to behave themselves. Of course, all were a bit childish at times, still being young, but he had a different quality about him. It wasn't alluring to her at all that he was in the same boat as herself. Without his birth mother, raised by a father who didn't fully understand how to deal with children. If she had wanted to pity him, she'd have done just that, and pitied herself at the same time. But, like herself, he'd just kept going, behaving appropriately regardless of the wretched hand the world had dealt him.

It helped very much that he cared about her. He didn't need to, but he acted as her support, perhaps a crutch with which she could keep on walking.

He'd been keeping her strong the last few months.

"I promised... that I wouldn't fall in love with just anyone."

"It's all right," Uryu nodded. "I know. I don't blame you for it. You should keep your promise."

Nemu stopped, reaching over to touch his arm. "But that's the thing," she whispered. "I think that my part of the promise, what my mother asked, was that I find someone who made me feel... different. Better about the world. The thing is... You're not just anyone."

****# - # - # - #****

"Why'd you do it?"

Mayuri didn't even have to look at her. It was the usual routine that Retsu used when she felt she needed to intimidate him. It couldn't have worked more than once. Based on her tone, it had something to do with the gloomy way Nemu had set off for school. Of course, she'd think that he had something to do with it. So, he sat there quietly, watching the text roll across the lit screen. He wasn't going to have this conversation.

Her movement was a blur, circling around the room and disappearing to the right. In was now the stage in which she'd do something, anything, to obtain his full attention.

"Don't play this game, Mayuri. It's not cute," she said, pulling the plug on the battery and snapping the lid shut. And, with it, the pint-sized captain's request for inconsistencies in the case. Oh, well. "Now, why did you do it?"

She really was asking for it, hovering the way she was. But it wasn't the only thing that was increasingly attractive at the moment. Aside from, maybe, that idiot Urahara, she knew it all. The darkest, depth-defying truths about the goings-on in his world, and still she hadn't run away. Maybe she was drawn to it, or maybe she wanted to fix him and bring back the light that she imagined he'd once held.

It was all so alluring.

"What, Nemu? I didn't really do anything... Except say that I didn't give a damn if she brought her friends home," he remarked, suppressing a grin. "But you... Well, you could say plenty more than that."

Retsu's hands settled onto the arms of the chair, her gaze level with his own. Yes, he knew that this was supposed to be a serious conversation, and that the time for games wasn't now, but he had to get an answer out of her hardened facade. It had been nagging at him for the last couple of days, her motives for staying there with him, for not turning away or trying to drown him in his own blood.

"I don't mean Nemu." She was silent for a moment, pursing her lips. "Why'd you do it?"

Mayuri had imagined that she would ask eventually, but he hadn't thought that she'd be so damn direct about it. Frankly, he didn't hold a bit of regret for his actions, the result of hardening himself against the constraints of regulation. Had the incessant chattering not kept at him, he'd have said nothing and let her live on in her lovely little world. The motive, or insanity as some would have called it, had been rather basic.

He straightened up in the chair, a hand reaching out to play in the hair that fell over her shoulder. Retsu didn't move, but he smiled.

"Why don't you indulge me for a bit? At the moment, you're really very... _distracting._"

Her hands moved, one pinning his wrist to the chair, the other slapping his touch away. "You'll get nothing until I have an answer. How's that?"

"Fine." Eyes closed, he sighed, tongue rolling over his teeth. He didn't even feel the tremors. "Everyone has secrets, whether or not they're fully aware. The... appeal is to exploit them. To satisfy the questions that just keep everything going. People tell you far more in death, in their final moments, than you'd ever get out of them in life."

And, really, it was a hell of a lot more entertaining to carve them up.

She didn't speak, and he wasn't going to look at her. This woman was already going to be the death of him, poison like she was.

It was a welcome surprise as Retsu forced his hand down, pinning it like the other, as she settled herself into his lap. It was incredible how she could still stand to be anywhere near him. He was certainly no expert, not having given a damn before she'd come along, but most women probably would have run like hell, straight to the police. This woman was either far too forgiving, or as masochistic as he was.

Hell, he didn't know what he wanted anymore, let alone what was supposed to happen. Retsu was here, and it was evident that she had no intention of leaving. Especially if he told her to.

Her eyes were insisting that everything, aside from the evident lust between them, be forgotten.

It was always a shock, the way she'd draw him under the water with her gaze, only to pull him back out with a sensual, electric touch. But that was an unconfirmed part of the game, looking to see who'd crack first. And, with the way she kept on winning, Mayuri almost suspected her of cheating. Almost. She was just that damned good.

His panting turned into heavy moans as one of her hands slid down between them, nimble fingers undoing the belt and slipping past the waistband of his pants. She made a fist, closing tightly around him, muffling his breaths with her mouth. Nothing made sense anymore. She was completely dominating him, bringing every nerve in his rigid body to scream, waiting for that needed release. But, every time it drew near, Retsu would pull back, smiling against the kiss.

The emotions she brought to boil within his mind couldn't have been anything Mayuri could do to himself. Hell, he wouldn't even think about such behavior, assuming he'd have anything left to think about after this ordeal.

With his hands free, he went about exploring her beneath the dress, peeling undergarments away from her pale body, teasing whatever skin was sensitive enough to react. She would jump periodically, but retaliate with tightening her grip or moving away to lick his neck.

More than anything, he wanted out of the damned chair. To pin her to the floor and turn everything around. Return the torment. But this wasn't a game he could win, regardless of the alarmingly sensual and pleasurable things he wanted to do and have done. It was punishment, not for the unforgivable sins he'd committed, but for keeping secrets. For lying to her.

Lies simply wouldn't be tolerated.

Skilled hands pressed against his throat, keeping him from looking down as she ground herself firmly against him. Gods, why wouldn't she just do it already? Why did she have to make this so damn agonizing? It was just a dull roar in his head, whatever it was she'd been saying to him. But Retsu smiled again, and cool air began to bite heated flesh.

Her ankles slipped behind him in the chair, pinning his trembling body to its frame. Then they met, she slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the groans and thick curses. That blasted tang of iron soiled his tongue for the first time in weeks, but it hadn't been brought about by the uneasiness of having her find him out. No, Mayuri had done it to himself, teeth cutting through the soft flesh of his lip, hands clinging to her sides.

The sensation didn't fully fade until she moved to touch his face.

"I don't want them here..." she breathed. "You shouldn't have agreed to let them come."

If Retsu didn't approve, he'd never hear the end of it. If Nemu didn't think he cared, she'd continue moping. Either way, he was screwed. Which, in the case of the first, was the current situation.

"They're stupid kids," he hissed. "Here for a night, gone in the morning."

But that wasn't it at all. Retsu didn't trust him, not with people, at least. Not now. She thought he'd go and do something stupid, bring the country, perhaps the world, into all of this, and ruin everything she'd ever wanted.

"Never mind," she said, leaning into him. "You're right. It's fine. They're just kids... They need to enjoy themselves for a change. Especially Nemu."

Mayuri snickered. "I didn't say any of that."

"But you were thinking it. That's why you said yes. You're horrible at showing it, but you care about her."

A perfect way to ruin something pleasant, trying to dissect him like a pinned rat.

Retsu slipped her hand into his, her head falling to his shoulder with shuddering breaths. It was nice to know that her little torture session had had an affect on her as well. That made this even better.

"You're not afraid that they'll find out?" His hand rested on her back.

She must have known that staying was the stupid thing to do. Allowing herself emotional attachment that, were he caught, could drain the color from her little world faster than water from a bath. Regardless of profession, the police wouldn't let any of this go if this got out.

"No. They'll never know the difference," she whispered. Her fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt. "I won't let them come and take you from me."


	30. Blank Page

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 30: **Blank Page

**A/N: **Lemon.

* * *

><p>"Ugh. I wish he'd just pick one or neither of them already," Etsuko huffed, head laid down sideways on her desk as she stared out the door. "It's like he's messing with everyone, towing the two of them around all the time. What a stupid jerk. Showing them off like they're part of his personal harem or something..."<p>

Nemu ignored her. From the time class had started, the other girl had been bellyaching about whose behavior bothered her and why. She must have had another fight with her mother the night before. She only ever made everyone else miserable under those circumstances. Although, Nemu and her friends had never quite figured out why. They just quietly hoped that it was an involuntary reaction.

Her green eyes stared down at the book on her desk, completely ignoring the lunch that sat on the floor beside her. She just didn't feel like eating. Nemu glanced over in time to see Haruki and Amaya run out of the classroom, giggling and whispering to each other as a small group of their classmates passed by, heading to the rooftop. And, of course, they popped back in and looked back at her with wide grins.

They knew that she'd arrived to school with Uryu, obviously late. That must have been why they were so enthralled with staring at him. They believed that something, something that Nemu wouldn't speak of, had gone on between the two of them.

"Now, tell me again why you and Uryu were covered with dirt this morning." Haruki chirped, skipping between the desks. "I promise not to forget this time."

Nemu sighed, closing the book with a soft thump. "I fell," she said. "I went the long way, and Uryu happened to do the same. We started talking, and I fell. He helped me up. That's all."

"Okay," the other laughed. "Whatever you say."

She knew that Haruki was only teasing. Her friends knew the truth. They just liked giving her a hard time over it.

But they had talked about more than that. Well, Nemu had, at least. She'd told him that he wasn't just anyone, that she felt she could fulfill that promise with him. Uryu hadn't really said anything. He'd just held her hand and smiled.

There was a loud sound that echoed through the room as Etsuko slammed her hands on her desk. The boy had walked passed the classroom yet again, but alone, likely heading to the bathroom or for a drink. Nemu had seen his ginger hair for only a moment. She smiled, watching as her friend growled, staring firmly at the doorway. She must have been determined not to blink, as her face was contorted into the strangest expression.

The sound of the water fountain reached her, followed by the sound of his footsteps as he came back to the classroom. He stopped, eyes wide when he walked through the door, surprised to see that Etsuko was staring fiercely at him. A hand was raised, and he rubbed his head curiously.

"What's your deal, Tachibana?" he muttered, eyes on her as he walked to his desk. "You look... possessed."

The other girls laughed, Etsuko throwing her hands up as she moved to stand in her chair. Hands went to her hips, and she continued watching him, clearly making the boy uncomfortable.

"You're a damned pain, Ichigo Kurosaki," she hissed, making a face at him. "Why don't you just make up your mind already?"

Clutching a glass soda bottle in his hand, the boy stepped back, holding the neck and raising his arm in case he was attacked. "I don't know what you're talking about, but, whatever it is, it's none of your business. Now, leave me alone, will you? _You're _the pain."

Etsuko screamed, jumping across the desks with her arms outstretched, hoping to grab him. But he was too quick, darting out of the room, giving the door a good kick that sent it flying into her face.

Nemu sighed, listening as her friend shouted after him, demanding that he quit screwing around with her head and decide who the hell he was going to date.

"You're out of your head," Amaya chimed, taking a seat atop the teacher's desk. She began examining her nails. "No boy's going to want to go out with you if you're such a bitch all the time. Besides, you're not Orihime or Rukia, so you really have no chance. So far as Kurosaki's concerned, you're not even a player in the game."

For so long as she could remember, Etsuko had been in love with the boy. But, given the situation, it was best not to broach that subject. Her friend was likely to complete her nervous breakdown before class resumed.

"You guys aren't doing anything tonight, are you?" Her friends looked at her, puzzled. Nemu went on. "I want you all to come over and stay the night."

Haruki laughed. "Yeah, like that'll happen. We all know that your dad's not going to let that happen." She stuck out her lower lip, pouting a bit. "I'm sorry, but he screws up everything."

Nemu paused, turning when rain began tapping against the window. She should have known that the sun wouldn't last the whole day through. Not with clouds dancing about in the background. They looked so close now, leaving a light fog over the city for as far as she could see. For a moment, she thought that, were the window to open, she'd be able to reach outside with a jar, and keep the feather-light clouds as a reminder.

"He said yes."

"What?" they shouted in unison. Three pairs of eyes were immediately drawn to her, although she didn't once look away from the window. "He _what_?"

Promptly, the bell rang, and the rest of their classmates could be heard scurrying down the hallway. They filed in in clumps,! chattering and gathering around desks until their teacher arrived again, shouting at people to sit down, shut up, and pay attention, lest they leave school as delinquents.

"_Just tell me already!" _the message on her screen said.

She smiled and looked at Amaya, shaking her head.

"_I'll tell you later."_

****# - # - # - #****

He couldn't be caught. It was simply unacceptable. Were he to be foolish, to take a chance and go it alone, death would be imminent. It was one thing to perish, but to do so at the hands of the police or the master reaper himself would be failure in every sense of the word. He'd much rather die at the hands of the yakuza. That way, at least, he'd be free of all blame in his mind. It would be a peaceful afterlife.

It had always been a companion, the darkness. On and off the streets, sleeping inside and outside of warm buildings, it had always been there, lurking in his heart. They'd gone and printed our a label for him, from a machine, and slapped it onto his forehead for the world to see. Those people, the ones who had claimed to be interested in helping him, hadn't given a damn about how he turned out. They'd just been doing it for themselves, out of fear that someone higher up on the chain would close down their so-called "charitable organization."

Monster, they'd said, and to a child. Eventually, he'd accepted that idea and had found a way to apply it to everything and anything that he had done. It was a term that truly defined him.

Under the darkened sky, the city was still lit up like the sun. Small, glittering bulbs of all colors and shapes hanging, almost suspended, from buildings. Flashing billboards, screens spinning with attractive imagery. Only in this part of town would one see such things. People parading down the streets, hanging around outside bars and laughing. Were he only one of them, perhaps he'd stop for a moment to revel in the temporary elation.

But he wasn't like them. In fact, he was above and beyond what any of them, when looking into their hearts, were truly capable of.

He was a murderer.

People walked right into him as he passed through downtown, easily disregarding the man in black. But he didn't care. He wasn't anything, save a beast. A beast without a name. A blank page in the wind.

Down alleyways and over fences he went, silent all the while. The sky roared high above his head, as if it were the voice of the gods, threatening to strike him down for his misdeeds. But it was easily ignored as the rain came down, his shoes running through potholes that would soon be filled with moisture. Certainly, he deserved to be taken out, left to die alone. But not by the gods, either. No, they wouldn't take him either. Not yet. He still had a mission to fulfill.

There was no way to tell just how long he'd been walking through the sheet of heavy rain. By this point in the journey, there was nothing present to signify how much time had passed. He raised his head, a smile creeping across his face as a figure appeared, bathed beneath the dimming bulb of a streetlight.

"_You're _Yakusoku?" he chuckled, hands shoved into the pockets of his hooded jacket. What a joke. This man, who was rather... delicate-looking, couldn't have been part of the infamous yakuza gang. Even if he was wearing the trademark symbol on the sleeve of his blazer. "I thought they were supposed to be much more than a collective of troubled businessmen."

The man before him just smiled, raising a hand, and snapped. "Street rats never do learn their place. They're forever eclipsed by everything that they are not, and cannot be."

There was a sharp tug on the back of his jacket, yanking him backwards. Down he went, landing on the soaked pavement of the dock. His head tilted itself backwards, another grin appearing on his face. High above him was the man he'd been looking for. The head of the gang himself.

"Who the fuck're you?" came a growl, the point of a boot being shoved into his shoulder.

He rolled, pushing off with his hands to land on his feet. "I take it you're the boss," he replied coyly. Of course, his statement merited no response. It was very entertaining, the way the man, the nightmare, watched him. Yes, he knew all about the infamous Kenpachi Zaraki, as well as the rumor that he'd been cooperating with the police. Despicable. "You will refer to me only as Kuhaku. Is that understood?"

The other man began pacing, walking around him. What a monster this man must have been, killing like there was no such thing as damnation. Surely, they were the same in that regard. Human life was so easily stolen away, and of little value to either of them. He didn't believe in all the stories, but Kuhaku was certain that a man could corrupt his soul until he was naught but a shell.

That must have been what damnation truly was.

A hand made its way into the collar of his jacket, his feet leaving the ground. "A 'blank page,' eh? Ya must think you're tough shit, boy. Walkin' in here like ya got nothin' to lose."

Kuhaku shrugged, laughing. "That's it exactly. Aside from this life, I really have nothing to lose. You see, I have something you've been looking for, Kenpachi Zaraki. You've wanted this for several months now, and there's not another person in this worthless city who has it. So, should you decide to kill me, you'll never know the truth."

The yakuza boss set him down. "Start talkin', ya little shit. What the fuck kind of deal're ya tryin' to make?"

He wandered in a circle around the man, peering through the hood at the others who stood at the ready. Capable men, to be sure, and well-trained to boot. One wrong move, and he'd be run through with knives, thrown out into the sea.

"The man who killed Ikkaku Madarame. I know everything about him. His name, his location, even where he's been in the past ten years. Everything you need to know about him," he tapped the side of his head, "lies with me."

That had surely done it. Although the yakuza members didn't dare lower their weapons, Zaraki stepped forward, glowered at him, and promptly let out a laugh.

"Ya mean that lousy Irooni Killer, or whatever the fuck his name is." The scarred man grinned. "Ya really are tough shit, kid. But ya ain't gonna make this easy, are ya? The hell do ya want outta this?"

Kuhaku shook his head, raising his hands. "I want him dead. That's all." He turned, a serious tone in his voice. "Truthfully, he won't easy for anyone to take. To his credit, he's eluded the police for the past seven years. Twenty-nine bodies later, a little added difficulty, and the captain heading the investigation is prepared to call it quits. The surest way to bring him out is to go in and take what he cherishes above all else. His pride. You threaten that, and he'll come to you."

Through the silence, the rain kept on, cars whirring down the streets, throwing water across the sidewalks and buildings. The waves beneath the wharf began to roll, slapping against the concrete ground and the docks

"But, as for the captain... you already knew that, didn't you?" He decided then that the narrowed glare was confirmation. "Well, if you make a deal with me, I can guarantee that you'll have the pleasure of doing the fun part. See, I already have the trap set." He wagged a finger. "Tonight, before nine-thirty, your bait will come poking around for a good time." Kuhaku clenched a fist. "That's when you take it, and wait. He'll come. He can't stand to be outdone..."

"And just how the hell're you gonna manage that?"

He turned away, pulling a phone from his pocket, smiling as the screen lit up. He pressed it to his ear. "Hello, Etsuko? Yeah, it's Kumo-kun. I just got off work. So, you wanna go grab something to eat before my next job...?" Pause. "A sleepover? I think you're a little too old for that kind of thing... No, I'm kidding! Well, what do you say to some free drinks for you and your friends? I've got a whole extra case here that the boss let me hang onto..."

****# - # - # - #****

It all seemed so calm, and that's really what was worrying her. There had been no snarky remarks, aside from the few that had been exchanged earlier in the morning, no running her ragged with worry, and very little confrontation between him and Toshiro. And all of this in only a span of three days. The closest he'd been to normal, at least as she knew it, was the obviously satisfied way he'd looked at her when he'd come home the day before. Said something about having finalized a means of "insurance."

But she knew better than to think it was anything different than what it was. He'd found a way to lure someone else, likely one who had inserted themselves into his game, into the spotlight.

Then, there were other things that had piqued her curiosity. Things that not even Nemu seemed to know. Dates and papers, for starters, of the various events that had taken place long before she'd walked through that door. Papers that would tell her everything that Mayuri wouldn't.

Even going through the old records, that had been sitting idly by on a shelf in the office, hadn't yielded any results. Just procedures that had been carried out, and a handful of other facts that had nothing to do with her questions.

Where were the personal documents, hospital records, birth and marriage certificates? Hidden away, most likely.

Back down the hallway she went, peering into the next room. Her eyes were met with the flickering of a screen, but the projection wasn't important enough to pay attention to. Peering over the back of the sofa, she was looking for the telltale signs of sleep. And there they were.

He didn't move at all, just lay there with an arm across his forehead, the other grazing the floor. Retsu wanted to reach out and touch him, run her fingers across the soft gray cloth. But she wouldn't, didn't want to wake him. Questions wouldn't be answered that way. Mayuri always had a way to deflect. Rather, she walked quietly around the sofa, the carpet pleasant against the soles of her feet. Kneeling on the floor, Retsu leaned forward, her head resting on his shoulder.

"There have been many questions raised by the public as of late," the news anchor on the screen said, "as to whether or not the Shinjuku police force is handling the Irooni Murder Case properly." He stood calmly before a large crowd of people, many of whom were holding up signs and shouting. It looked to be a protest of sorts. "Numerous citizens have gathered outside the Shinjuku Police Station, demanding that the case be handed over to someone with higher authority."

She placed a hand on Mayuri's shoulder and squeezed. Poor Toshiro. He'd been working so hard, and now people wanted him to quit. All because he couldn't find the killer...

_You should just do it_, something said. A voice that certainly wasn't her own. _Do it, and call it an accident. That's your way out of this hell. Your only way..._

What would happen if she gave into that idea, allowed herself to go through with the same unspeakable act? To take life, watch it drain away, with or without blood. She knew what he'd told her, his motive, but was that really all there was to it? Was it solely choice, or was it an addiction?

Until he moved, eyes still closed, Retsu didn't realize where her hands had ended up, wrapped around his throat. It would be so simple, so frightening, to stand and lean forward, feeling his blackened heart race beneath her fingertips. To feel it burn and fade away in a few short minutes. Perhaps less.

So, what if she did? What if she caved into that little voice? It would still be a murder, wouldn't it? Even if she were doing it for the sake of peace and sanity. Why, she'd be no different than those who ran rampant on the street, preaching justice and righteousness so as to absolve themselves of blame and sin. But, regardless of motive, it was still a wicked act, killing for the sake of killing. Defensive measures were one thing, but to kill because one could? It was a desecration of life.

Her hands fell away, ashamed that such a thing had crossed her mind. Retsu couldn't do it. She couldn't be like them. Like him.

She couldn't kill and go on living.

The front door then opened, snapping her out of the reverie, followed by the sound of laughter. Book bags could be heard as they dropped to the floor with a thud, textbooks likely spilling out. Retsu stood, moving to leave and ask the girls to keep their voices down. But she was pulled back with a start, a spark of surprise running through her.

"You scared me," she said sternly, pulling her wrist from his grasp. Retsu leaned over him, giving him a tap as he laughed at her. "It's not funny."

Her change in demeanor, from questioning to worried, had nothing to do with having been scared. All her fears had everything to do with him. And what he might, or might not, do.

The girls filed into the room, laughing and setting things up for their night of fun. Retsu went to leave, but turned around and grabbed Mayuri by the arm when he showed no sign of getting up.

"Kitchen. Now."

He yawned, following as she pulled him into the other room, turning around with a fierce look on her face.

"What's that look for? It's not like I'm going to poison them..."

"You're going to do something stupid," she said quietly, looking back down the hall and into the den. She didn't want the girls to hear anything. "And don't tell me you won't. You've done plenty of stupid things already. And you know exactly what I mean."

Her eyes closed, his grip on her arms tightening. She hadn't even felt him touch her. Yes, she was trying to push it. To see just how far it would take before he'd break.

"You _want_ me to hurt you?"

There it was, that tender feeling welling up inside her chest. Lukewarm with shivers, welcome and not. It had been so long since she'd felt it, that sensation of excitement and woe. Why, it had been late in the summer, when it had looked like the heavens had it in for their city. When light had hit the earth in stripes, flames bursting from the ground. Retsu hadn't known it before, but that curious emotion had been a sort of forewarning. And, when she'd followed the flier to lab number eight that day, the feeling had gone away.

Her breath hitched in her throat, his hands wandering beneath the hemline of her dress and against her heat. Of course he'd try this now, testing her will while she tested his. Everything told her to push him away. That this wasn't the time nor the place, especially given the fact that there were _other _people present. Someone could see everything.

It was maliciously charming, the sensation within her sex. Still, it was just for his entertainment, possibly revenge for the cruel little game she'd instigated earlier in the day.

Mayuri laughed, breath on the side of her face, little murmurings coming from her parted lips. "You're just too easy."

That wasn't so. If anything, it was the other way around, but with some resistance. So conveniently, he'd forgotten his own begging. And were she to tell him something, want anything, he'd follow through on the request, but not without making some smart remark about it. So, why? Where did that come from?

She hated it, the way he played at driving her mad. It was a bit exciting at first, wondering just how he'd instigate the ritual. But now, it were as if she were falling backwards, forced to the edge and pushed right over, testing the boundaries of sanity. To the point that Retsu couldn't quite place her own name, the heat pouring out of her as she rode the wave to the shore.

Far too soon it ended, his lips pressed against her throat as she scowled.

"Don't look at me like that," he hissed, body pressing her further against the wall. "And don't pretend you didn't like it."

She was a bit disappointed when he stepped off suddenly, backing up and hopping onto the counter to pretend that nothing unusual, let alone sexual, had been going on. But Retsu suspected that, with the way Nemu had looked at him, she knew better. She didn't look so much irritated as perturbed. Probably for the same reasons that Retsu had been hesitant. There were other people around.

"We're going to get drinks. Sodas," she said plainly, a jacket in hand. "Etsuko's cousin called and said he has some leftover drinks from work. We're going to get them."

Retstu turned to look at him, hoping that he'd say something about it being too dark for them to go, but all she got was that half-smirk, gaze still on her. And she knew he had no interest in her reaction.

"I think it's too late," she said. Nemu didn't look satisfied. "It would be best if you just..."

_Don't say it, _she thought. _Don't even..._

He stared at the floor, his eyes moving to look at her every so often. "Do what you want."


	31. Ticket

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 31: **Ticket

* * *

><p>No answer, not since her last message had been sent an hour earlier. Perhaps she'd thrown him off, frightened him, by saying something so serious. Maybe he just wasn't ready for something like that. Of course, she hadn't meant they would go right away. Once school was over and done with, to someplace far away. Maybe Nagasaki or Okinawa, or even a foreign country. Just so long as she got away from this city, away from the world she'd come to hate.<p>

There was just no joy in watching the bright cityscape draw closer to her. It wasn't quite so magical as it had been when she was a child. She knew the streets, the districts, the shops. Why, had she wanted to, Nemu was sure that she could have memorized every step she'd ever taken within Tokyo. Every familiar route, right down to where she'd taken a breath.

Looking out the window, melancholy as Etsuko sat behind the wheel, there was just no appeal. She needed something new, something better.

More often than not, she found herself wondering how she really felt about him. If it was him she hated, or just the things he did, the way he operated. Some days, like this one, were better than others. Days like this made her feel like there was really something in him that wanted to take care of her the way he did Akemi. But she didn't know. She couldn't ask, either. He didn't tell anyone such things. Probably not even Retsu.

"I thought you were excited."

Nemu turned, her friend's gaze still on the road ahead of them. "I am," she replied. "What makes you think I'm not?"

The windshield wipers flew across the glass, sending water streaking up the other windows as they sped up, passing through an intersection. "You're thinking about him again," her friend laughed, smiling fondly. "Whenever you think about Uryu, you get that really quiet look in your eyes, and tune everything else out."

She wouldn't know, having never seen herself while thinking about him. Passing by a window certainly didn't count. Nemu shrugged, forcing a smile. It was fine if Etsuko didn't know, if she wanted to think that Uryu was the only thing on her mind. It was better that way. Better for everyone to believe that her thoughts were occupied by a candle rather than the darkness of the room around her.

The car turned down several streets, getting further and further away from the colors of the city. They were obscured by tall, darkened buildings, only a few lights on in the windows. It was the shady part of town, down by the wharf. What were they doing here?

"I thought we were going to meet Kumo at the store..."

Etsuko shrugged, bringing the car to a stop. "That's what I thought, but he messaged me just before we left. Said that we have to meet him here, because he got a late-night job storing crates in the warehouses." She peered out the window. "It might take a little while. I don't see how he could move anything in this rain."

The other girl reached into the back seat of her car, and came back with a couple of umbrellas. She pulled her hood over her brown hair, zipped up her jacket, and opened the door, the umbrella spreading over her head.

"You coming?"

She didn't want to, but Nemu said nothing. She just followed Etsuko, knowing that it would be best if the two of them didn't get separated.

The doors locked behind them as Etsuko pointed the remote at the car, the headlights still shining bright. They leaned on the hood, staring straight ahead, out into the frothing waves. Far from them as they were, it was as if the water would somehow rise, coming to sweep them away from land, far out to sea.

Maybe that's where they'd go, out to sea. It wouldn't have to be fancy, the boat, but reliable. Perhaps they could said along the nation's coastline, visiting islands.

"Hey, Etsuko-chan!"

Nemu turned, watching as her friend's face lit up. A man in a hooded jacket, probably her cousin, walked towards them from the alleyway, a hand raised in greeting. Etsuko embraced him, and began asking about how work had been going. In turn, Nemu tuned them out. She hadn't really wanted to come, but getting out of Karakura was a nice change of scenery. Even if it still was the same, mundane city as before.

"So, where are these extra drinks you promised, you jerk?" Etsuko laughed.

He shrugged. "I didn't really think you'd come. At least, not so quickly. Thought I'd have to wait a while, so I got ready for work," he pointed to a logo on his jacket, "and shoved the case in the refrigerator."

"You have a refrigerator in the warehouse? Come on, Kuma. You expect me to believe that crap?"

A laugh. "Well, it's not like I work in an office building. And we've gotta have someplace to store lunches." Kuma shrugged, turning his head as he started towards the warehouse, waving at them. "Well, come on."

No, Etsuko was right. Nemu had never heard of an instance where the workers on the wharf had to stick around all day, leaving food in a refrigerator. They were supposed to have a headquarters, a primary base of operations where paperwork and records were kept. They wouldn't leave them in a warehouse.

She shoved a hand into her pocket, pretending that she hadn't noticed him. Her fingers flew across the buttons on her phone before sending it to the recipient. When Etsuko called to her, she just started walking, puling the device from her jacket as if she hadn't seen it in a while. As she walked, Nemu looked over the message, but decided that it would mean nothing.

It was pocketed.

They trudged into the warehouse, Etsuko and Kumo laughing about some party they'd been to a while back. But Nemu didn't care at all. She just wanted to get the drinks and go home to a warm blanket and something good to eat. She stopped by the door, leaning into a nearby crate as her friend followed Kumo to the far wall. Sure enough, there was a refrigerator, which made Nemu think that she'd been wrong.

She stared out into the rain.

"Right in there."

Etsuko was still laughing when she opened the door, but it stopped suddenly, and Nemu turned in time to see her friend stumble backwards, eyes wide. The brown-haired girl, looked to Kumo, who still hadn't taken his hood off, and lifted a finger.

"Y-You're not... Kumo..."

What this was, she didn't know. Hopefully some strange dream gone wrong. But sure enough as the two of them were breathing, there was blood leaking out of the refrigerator, a hand flopping out to hit the floor. She could see the tears in Etsuko's eyes as she began to scoot backwards, away from the hooded figure. There was a broad grin on his face, the lights above them flickering.

It was there that the other girl abruptly passed out, falling backwards onto the concrete floor. Nemu turned away, heading out the door and into the rain. Somehow, she had to get away. But leaving Etsuko behind...? She couldn't slow down, couldn't go back for her. Not yet, at least. If she were caught too, then there wouldn't be any hope for either of them. The only chance was to let someone know what had happened. Someone who could, and would, do something.

So she ran, oblivious to the voices that followed. Voices that wanted her left alive.

She made it to the car, tugging on the doors with no reward. They were locked, and Etsuko had the keys. So she turned and headed down the alleyway, slipping and falling against a dumpster, hidden in the dark. And there, out of her hand, flew the phone, sliding well underneath the metal beast.

Scrabbling across the ground, she got onto her knees, lunging for the phone. She was so close, fingertips grazing it before she caught it by the charm, tugging. Fingers closed as it flipped open, jamming themselves into the buttons in hopes of reaching someone.

The message. She'd had a feeling before, a fear that something was going to happen. There it was, still waiting to be sent. And then it was gone, a pixelated envelope flying through the air waves. She then deleted any trace of it. This Kumo, or whoever he really was, couldn't find out that she'd sent for help.

But, for the sake of what was going on, she lit up a number, and told it to call.

Just as quickly, it was wrenched out of her hand as he caught up to her, the shadow's eyes falling upon the screen. With its light flowing up into the hood, she could see his face, his smile. He knew she hadn't tried to call the police, that they hadn't been her idea of help at all. Somehow, that was satisfying to him.

"Come on..."

The echo of the ringer could be heard as he lifted the phone to his ear. Then it picked up. She could hear voices on the other end, laughter and shouting, then silence.

"If you want her," he chuckled, tying the knot, "come get her. Twenty minutes. Pier nine. Don't be late, _demon_..."

_Demon... _

She didn't know what it meant, and she didn't care. No matter the significance, he'd come. He _had_ to.

****# - # - # - #****

Another damned echo to cope with. Demon, demon, demon, over and over again. Then eyes, boring into his own, and the cold metallic feel on his skin.

There was no such thing as rain, as time, as the woman who'd tried to keep him from walking away. This was far more important.

This stupid bastard was screwing with him, trying to get him worked up so he couldn't think straight. What the hell kind of a game was this, taking hostages, and in the middle of the night? Where the hell had he gotten such a moronic, overrated idea? Too much damned television.

It was only too bad that it was working, taking the intended toll. Still, it was just as well. Retsu wouldn't know it, wouldn't approve, but it had been eating away at him, the knowledge that there was someone else lurking around the city, offing people in a manner that thoroughly disrupted his own methods and procedures.

It rankled that he wasn't the only player in this game, that he wasn't in complete control of the situation. With some damned punk running around, knowing who he was, playing copycat, anything could change. It could all be the cause of some personal vendetta that was being held against him.

He'd likely pissed off the wrong person, and now had them coming back to bite him.

But that didn't matter. Someone had encroached upon his territory, daring to put themselves further into this dangerous game. And it was about to get them killed.

****# - # - # - #****

Water pooled in droplets on the lit-up screen, rolling off as he tilted the phone in his hand. It snapped shut as he shook his head, forcing it back into his pocket. He didn't even bother to wipe it off. Didn't need to, because he didn't care anymore. If the phone short-circuited, that would be fine. It wasn't a difficult thing to replace a cell phone.

Uryu wasn't certain as to why he was wandering around in the dark, watching streetlights hanging in the night, caught somewhere between Karakura and Tokyo. The morning had been promising, regardless of the fact that his teacher had been rather irritated with his late arrival. On any other day, he would have cared much more. But on this one, there was only one thing on his mind. _Her._

She'd said before that she couldn't love him, that she'd promised not to fall for just anyone. There had been no hard and fast details to fully explain that reasoning, but he'd accepted it all the same. Not because he wanted to, but for her. He'd reconciled himself to wait out time, to see how long it would take for her to decide, if she ever did at all. And then today, completely out of the blue, Nemu had said that he wasn't just anyone. That had sealed away the hole that had been growing in his heart.

Most people would think that they were foolish, a couple of hormonally charged teenagers. But, unlike so many of the students in their school, they didn't play that dangerous game, didn't experiment with things beyond the heart and mind. So who were they to care what others said? How much they wanted them to let go of each other's hands? People didn't know what they felt, what they had both been missing in their lives.

Now that they'd found it, something greater than family ties, they couldn't let go.

The glass pieces before his eyes were pulled away, pushed into the shirt pocket beneath his coat. With rivulets of rain running through his field of vision, it wasn't safe to be wearing his glasses. So he went on without them, making out shapes of light that were a bit blurred around the edges.

Down one street here, another there, past shop windows and empty bus stops. He had come further into the city to pick something up, only to forget about it as soon as the train had let him off at the station. Now, Uryu didn't know where he was going. He just didn't want to go home.

He had nothing to fear from his father, save it be some long-winded lecture about staying far away from Nemu. Ryuken had never approved of the fact that his son had fallen for her, regardless of how innocent and recent the attraction was. Even so, it was powerful, and Uryu was certain that the man knew. Hardly a day went by without his father asking if he'd gotten rid of her yet.

Maybe, had she come from a place with more balance, he wouldn't have cared. But that was a stupid reason for him to change his mind about her.

He had made it down by the wharf now, stepping under a fire escape to rest. Reaching into his pocket, his fingers closes around the phone, hoping that it would go off, and that her message would appear on the screen. He flipped it open anyway, tapping the buttons until the conversation glared up at him again.

While on the train, they'd started talking, each replying to the messages more quickly than they had before. It had started out with her thanking him for walking with her to school that morning, and had progressed with how each felt about the other. And, finally, a question he'd never thought she would ask.

"_If I asked you to, would you run away with me...?"_

It made him smile.

He jumped as the phone shook in his hand, the little window on the front flashing with Nemu's name. Shielding it with a hand, he flipped it open for the umpteenth time that evening, curious as to what it was she'd say. But the characters on the screen were anything but what he'd expected.

"_Send police to Tokyo Pier 9. Hurry." _

The pier? She was supposed to be at home with her friends, having a good time. Why was she telling him about the pier? And why did he need to send the police?

Uryu didn't think, just ran through the rain, drenching his shoes and the ankles of his jeans. But why? What was it that made those words mean anything, made her so much more important? Were it anyone else, one of his friends, he would have certainly followed directions to the letter, blockading emotion to avoid getting worked up. But here, with the idea that there was danger lurking behind her, it was all he could do to get there as quickly as he could, and stop it.

Maybe, for him, that's how love manifested.

He nearly missed the turn, being too distracted and running as quickly as he was. Turning around, Uryu slipped, falling to his knees into a deep puddle by the side of the road. There wasn't time to sit there, try to dry himself off or worry about how cold he was. He had to get up, run through the alleyways and stay out-of-sight in case there were people around, watching the wharf.

Around the corner he went, between two buildings, slinking behind the large metal dumpster. Beside it, there were small trash cans stacked on top of one another, filled with all manner of disposable items. One foot up, and then the other, flipping the dumpster lid closed as quietly as he could. He walked on top of it, balancing his weight so as not to fall through. Above his head hung a rickety fire escape. Reaching up, it swayed, the creaking drowned out by the pounding of the rain.

Up he went, higher by the moment, climbing until he was atop the building. Below was the wharf, the waves riding up over the lip of the docks, splashing white foam across the concrete expanse. To the right, there was a warehouse, the doors wide open. And, right there beside it, was a car, the headlights still on.

It had to be hers.

Ducking down, Uryu peered over the rooftop, his eye having caught movement. There were two men standing there, and they appeared to be arguing.

"What the hell kind of game is this, you bastard?" one voice cried over the rain. "You told the boss he'd be here! That he'd come to collect the girl!" The taller of the two, the one who had been shouting, raised a hand to strike the other. "Well, where the hell is he?"

"Hush." The hooded man sidestepped behind the first, giving him a good kick in the back that sent him to the ground. He leaned over, a hand pressed to his partner's face. "You yakuza need to learn how to be quiet. Let's say, for argument's sake, that we were somehow found out. By someone other than your friend's killer. You wouldn't want them to hear you, right?"

The taller man seemed to understand, hopping to his feet. "What the hell're you suggesting?"

"I'm not suggesting a thing. I'm _telling _you to stay here and keep your mouth shut. I don't trust you _or_ your buddies, see? That's why you're the watchdog out here, and I'm the one who'll keep them from screwing with our guests." He smacked the other man. "Our pickup guy will show up soon enough. You tell me when, and we'll send the sweet little girlies somewhere safe. And then, when our target comes and starts snooping around, we kill him. Got me?"

Uryu watched, terribly impatient, as the hooded man returned to the warehouse, the other surveying the area with a gun in his hand. It was just dark enough for him to climb around without being noticed. Leaning over the building again, he saw another ladder, fastened tightly to the brick structure. Large wooden crates surrounded it, providing cover. He turned around, stepping down as quietly as he could, feet tapping the ground with a soft thud.

Watching, and waiting for an opening, was the best course of action, but after hearing that last bit, that about screwing around with the guests, he didn't want to sit still. Even so, he had nothing to fight back with. Nothing that could stand up to a close-range shot from a firearm.

He peered around the side of a crate, eyes widening as another vehicle pulled up, spraying the air as it screeched to a stop. That had to be the car that would take Nemu, and possibly some other girls, away.

He watched, hands shaking, as a figure stepped out, motioning to the man with the gun. The yakuza complied, shouldering the weapon, leaning close to the other. What were they saying?

"Wait," he heard the man say. The gangster took a step back. "You're...!"

Uryu cringed, slinking backward as the figure knocked the man to the ground, kicking the gun away. He could only watch, suspended in some dark world, as the yakuza began to struggle, thrown onto his back. After seeing the other's hands go for the villain's throat, he turned away. He didn't want to watch people die, no matter who they were, or what it was they'd done.

"N-No!" came the cry. "No, don't!"

Through the rain, there was a very distinct crack, almost in sync with the thunder, as the newcomer snapped the bastard's neck. Hands shot to his ears, as if it would do something to take the sound, that of certain death, away.

The ground beneath the body then grew dark, blood running with the rain.

But, if the watchdog was dead, and the pickup guy had killed him, then what would happen to the rest of this mysterious operation? If all these people were as ruthless as those he'd seen, it was certain that Nemu, and whoever else they had hostage, wouldn't survive the night.

He moved through the maze of crates, climbing up to peer over them ever now and again, heart pounding heavily in his chest. Uryu didn't want to die, didn't want to hurt anyone, but he couldn't leave. Everything could be gone by the time he got back with help. He stepped back into the alleyway, and behind the car, keeping an eye on the still figure standing on the wharf. Why wasn't he doing anything? This was the pickup they'd been waiting for, right?

Eyes closed, he took a breath, fingertips digging into his arms. One shot. That was it. He had to make it work. But, when he looked back to where the body lay, the other man was gone.

"Don't move... Stupid boy."

Uryu flinched, fear killing his nerve as a hand rested on his shoulder, the click of a gun going off an arm's length away from his head. But the bullet never touched him. A groan came from the direction of the body, his eyes moving in time to see another man drop to the ground, dead.

A breath came from behind him with a disappointed tone. "Damn... I really hate guns..."


	32. Loaded Deck

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 32: **Loaded Deck

* * *

><p>There was no real pleasure in killing with a firearm. The victims, when on guard or not, dropped in an instant, without any sign of a struggle. In his mind, it didn't classify as a real kill. Certainly not one to be proud of. Any idiot could kill with a gun. The unsuspecting victim was always an ideal target, just so long as he could feel them go.<p>

_Demon,_ one of the papers had said. _No respect for the sanctity of life. _A useless label and statement, and one that he'd never once applied, let alone taken into consideration. They had just been empty words to him, conclusions drawn by people who could never understand the motivation, the irrepressible need and brimming fascination. But looking at them now, watching them fall over the side of the dock, they didn't matter. Even watching them sink, it was almost as if they weren't disappearing. As if he were still staring at their cold bodies draining in the storm.

Thinking about it seriously, it all made sense. And they were right.

He didn't give a damn about their lives. They'd all die anyway. This way, at least, they were useful.

There was no point in paying the boy any mind. He hadn't even intended to leave him alive. The idea had been to kill him to if, by the off chance, he'd figured anything out. But, having thought on it, the kid would be of serious use.

So he'd put the kid to work, coercing him into posing as the party that was supposed to come and collect. He'd conveniently left out the part that the man who was supposed to have come was now sinking into the waves.

These stupid gangsters didn't give a damn about who they killed, so long as they got to him. He'd killed some of their own, after all, and they weren't the sort to let a grudge die. That's why they'd turned to this fake, likely some unfulfilled young officer trying to make a name for himself. Of course, the yakuza couldn't handle him themselves. No, they had to do it with their obsessive little collective.

It really shouldn't have been the brat taking the helm, wandering into the fray with but the single thought of rescue in his head, but the bastard was there, somewhere, just waiting for Mayuri to show up. The boy had run headlong into this, not knowing a thing about what he was really caught up in. He didn't know if Uryu's naivety was a curse or not. One wrong move, and this could all be over.

That's why he was stuck out in the rain on a rooftop, soaked through and waiting for things to progress. He just sat there, staring at the ground where the blood had turned to little more than pink water. It would be gone by morning, and no one would know that they'd ever existed, that the city's infamous killer had struck again and offed a couple of useless gangsters. But the outlines were still there in his eyes, slowly fading.

They didn't matter. If he kept saying that, thinking it, then it was true.

Why was it taking so damn long? A better question was, why the hell was he putting something this fragile in the hands of a seventeen-year-old idiot? Oh, that's right. Were both he and the opposition blind, unsure as to who was the enemy in the crowd, it would have been one thing for Mayuri to take care of this himself. But this treasonous officer knew who he was, even knew what he'd been doing for the last six months. And that rankled.

There was no fear in this. Just the painful irritation of being outdone by some unseen force.

Waiting for this to be over was agonizing. But what else could he do?

****# - # - # - #****

_Stick with it, _he thought. _Stick with the plan, and we'll all... be fine..._

But, repeating that in his head did nothing, because Uryu couldn't very well remember the plan. What he did remember was that he'd been told to sit there, in the car with the headlights off, and drive out onto the street for ten minutes, then come back. Something about "they have to believe you're in with their outfit."

That's what he had all the questions about. This so-called outfit of gangsters and ordinary street thugs, generally enemies, so far as he'd seen, who had all banded together for an operation that should have been handled by police. Funny thing, as the two yakuza he'd seen before had been wearing completely different labels on their clothing. The first, the one that had been towing the gun, had been a clear member of the Yakusoku gang. The other man, who had been killed mere feet in front of him, hadn't been identified. Uryu hadn't been given a chance to recognize the mark on his arm and shirt.

Just as well, though. Had another moment passed by, he might have been taken captive as well. If he were lucky.

He drove around the block, trying to calm his nerves. Drive for ten minutes, then come back. That wasn't too hard, but it did nothing to assuage him. So many questions left unanswered.

Why had Nemu been out here at this time of night? Why were they the targets of the gangs? Why hadn't she called the police instead of messaging him? Why hadn't he _listened _to the instructions of her message, and called the police? Why was he cooperating with a man whom he didn't trust in the slightest? And, to top it off, why was he going along with this insanity?

Back down the alleyway he went, making as much noise as he could with the engine. He was supposed to let them know he was there. The car slowed to a stop in front of the warehouse, the keys falling into Uryu's hand and pocket as he stepped out, slamming the door. Around to the back seat he went, reaching inside and taking hold of a briefcase that had been shoved under one of the seats. His head was covered with his hood to block out the rain as he approached the door, rapping on it with his knuckles.

It opened, a couple of fierce-looking men with guns looking him over as he stepped inside.

Just a large room, empty save for several large crates, a refrigerator, and the thugs, now three, who watched him. The two closed the door behind him, circling around to stand on either side of the third, who was sitting in the middle of the floor in a black hooded jacket.

"You're a bit younger than I thought you'd be..." he said. "You sure you're the guy?"

Uryu shrugged, trying to appear unruffled. His fingers curled tighter around the black handle. What was he doing, playing along with this? Really, there weren't sides, weren't even people he could fully trust. He'd come to help Nemu, get her out of this mess, and he'd ended up forced into this farce by her batshit insane father.

What was even in this damned briefcase, and where the hell had it come from?

"You tell me," he said, swallowing. The case dropped from his hand, hitting the floor with a thud. Uryu lifted a foot, giving it a good kick, watching as it slid across the floor to the man in the hood, just as he'd been told to. He'd bet that this was the same guy he'd seen chatting with the watchdog. "There's your money. Now, where are the girls?"

The man knelt beside the briefcase, flipping it open before looking back to Uryu. He nodded and looked over his shoulder. Two others behind him, their clothing marked with the Yakusoku symbol, crossed the warehouse to a door. One opened it while the other walked inside. When he came out, Etsuko Tachibana was in his arms. He handed her off to the first man, went back in, and came out with Nemu.

Neither of them moved.

"Well, go ahead," the hooded man chuckled. "If you want them, take them."

Uryu shook his head, the plan running on repeat in his mind. He lifted a hand and turned, pointing to the vehicle outside, keeping his eye on the gangsters. "Put them in the car. Back seat. And no games. I have places to be."

He paused, waiting until the two men walked out of the warehouse, slipping out behind them, looking back every so often. One could never be too careful, especially in this part of the city. People were always getting killed, and over the most menial of things.

Covering himself with his own hood, Uryu walked up to the car, yanking one of the back doors open. The gangsters placed the girls inside, removing their restraints before stepping back. The door shut again, and Uryu locked it, nodding to the two. A few more moments, and they'd all be home free. But he still didn't have a good feeling about this.

"One second," he said, climbing into the driver's seat. His hand fell below the dashboard, falling into the button that snapped the trunk open. He rolled down the window, and leaned out. "In the trunk," he said, trying not to shake, "is a little something for your troubles. I'm sure your boss will appreciate it."

The men looked at each other for a moment, then back at the hooded man who nodded to them. Without a word, they circled around behind the car, leaning over to peer into the trunk.

Uryu visibly flinched when he heard one of them hit the ground, the other shouting and dropping to avoid getting hit. It made him sick to know that these people, horrid as they were, were being killed like animals. So that last bit hadn't meant a thing. It had just been a line in this part he'd been told to play.

Any moment, they would charge out of the warehouse and come after him, taking back their end of the bargain, and killing all of them. Even if they were to get away, he knew the yakuza would find them. The Yakusoku's leader wasn't a man who let people, particularly those who made him look like a fool, walk away.

There was another loud bang, from behind him this time, as the yakuza went and fired off several shots. He cringed, ducking below the steering wheel until the gunfire ceased. Uryu peered into the rear view mirror to make sure Nemu and Etsuko were still there, asleep and safe. He jerked his head around to the left when something behind the car moved, his eyes widening when he saw the second gangster standing at the window, the gun level with Uryu's own head. His foot slammed on the gas, propelling the vehicle past the man, and across the wharf, shots following him all the way.

He could hear the metal casings piercing the trunk, fearful that one of them would end up hitting the girls in the back. The car swerved as he put it into reverse, backing down the alleyway, the windshield wipers pounding against the glass.

Outside, he couldn't see a thing through the rain, save it be the crate that the headlights had settled upon. Another gunshot set him on edge, his fingernails piercing the wheel as he turned to look out each of the windows.

Uryu didn't even hear the passenger side door open and close.

"Damn. They just won't die..."

He turned, wet hair clinging to his forehead. "Die? You mean... That was_ you _shooting at them?"

Mayuri gave him a funny look. "You'd rather I let them kill us all...?"

Even with the rain pounding on the windows, Uryu could barely make out figures down the alley with flashlights. As they drew closer, he pulled out onto the street, turning and speeding quickly down the street.

"That wasn't part of the plan!" he shouted, pressing further on the gas. "What was that? Why'd you have to kill them? Now they're really going to come after us! You're going to get us all killed!"

Really, Uryu knew better than to ask. They were yakuza. Killers of the worst kind from all across the city, all rolled into one collective. People died making deals with them, let alone looking at one of their members the wrong way. Had they not been killed, there was a good chance that they'd have come looking for the four of them, prepared to do far worse than just murder them.

Even so, he didn't understand how, or why, a doctor would go out of his way to kill yakuza.

"Why _did _you kill them...?"

But there was just silence.

****# - # - # - #****

"The boss ain't gonna stand for this shit!" one man shouted, raising a fist. "You're the fucking genius who proposed this genius plan! So where is he? Where's our killer?"

He didn't say a thing. Truthfully, he'd expected the bastard to show, not the gang's cohort. The boy had appeared far too young to be involved with a group like this, but that was what made them deadly. Little more than children, fresh off the street, or even out of school, without a place to go in the world, without a talent or a penny to their names. Bitter, useless in the eye of society, just like himself.

Except he had, what he liked to call, "insurance."

The group was bickering now, cussing and shouting, and passing blame all around. If so-and-so had kept watch like he was supposed to, this wouldn't have happened. If someone's brother had upheld his end of the deal to deliver the weapons, then things would have gone much more smoothly.

But Kuhaku didn't think so. He'd hand-chosen the men who had been watching the place, and, based on reputation, knew that they wouldn't have just walked away in the middle of a job. These men were all ruthless killers, not a coward among them. Which left only one window: The bastard had shown up and taken them out, thus using the weapons on them to off the others. And the pickup guy hadn't been the one Kuhaku had set up the meeting with beforehand.

Which left the briefcase with payment.

And, of course, upon opening it, his eyes fell upon the items that had made the thing so heavy: Two coats with the Yakusoku patches on the shoulders, and, unsurprisingly, hands with "nice try" cut into them. Perfectly fitting for a sadistic doctor.

He should have been furious, but he just laughed. It seemed his opponent wasn't quite so half-assed after all.


	33. Hands Are Tied

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 33: **Hands Are Tied

* * *

><p>Funny how everything she'd seen for the last few hours had been devoid of all color, save a graying blue. A trick set about by her fearful mind, sitting up past eleven while watching the windows, looking for light, depriving her tired body of much-needed sleep. The other girls had gone on as though nothing were abnormal, finishing their movie, and falling asleep as they chatted about where Nemu and Etsuko could have been for the last two hours. A double date had been one of the ideas, but Retsu didn't think so. Nemu wouldn't do something like that and lie. If she'd said they were going to get drinks, then that's what they'd gone for. And it worried her. It wouldn't, shouldn't, take two long hours for a couple of teenagers to run into the city for some sodas.<p>

In fact, it shouldn't have taken Mayuri that long, either. But he hadn't said a thing, which set her on edge even more.

She didn't want to think about it, the idea that he had to let off steam by "relieving" some unsuspecting citizen or two of life's burdens. It was the only real reason she could think of for him to wander off in the middle of the night.

Strange, though, how the phone had rang mere minutes before, but that could have been a coincidence.

Akemi had been put to bed around ten, which was much later than usual, but not without constant questions about where her daddy and "onee-chan" were, and why they hadn't been around to say goodnight. Retsu had satisfied those worries by saying that they would both be there when she woke up in the morning. Her little eyes had closed then, arm curled tightly around her penguin doll as the little music box on the dresser had started to play.

Retsu had to tear herself from the window, deciding that nothing would happen were she to stick around and wait. Back up the stair she went, of course to check and see if the toddler was all right in a dark room. The door opened quietly, and closed the same way, Retsu content with seeing her daughter's little face again. But how strange it was, to think that she was really a mother now.

It ran to her through the walls, the sound of engines and doors slamming. She didn't want to get her hopes up by dashing back to the glass, only to find that someone else had been driving through the streets.

"I don't... I'm sorry..."

It couldn't have been real, the quiet, sorrowful whispers that reached her from the bottom the stairs. Akemi and the other girls were fast asleep, and had been for the past hour, at the least. Not a peep had come from anyone, not even Retsu herself. But, when she heard a door close, the steps all but vanished beneath her feet, a slight chill remaining where they touched to the ground floor.

Again, there was nothing.

Perhaps she was dreaming, or at least stuck within that realm between wakefulness and sleep, at the mercy of her fears that were coming to life. A house where the others present wouldn't wake, and those who were gone would never come back, left to be painted upon the walls by wandering thoughts.

Halfway up the stairs again, without daring to look back. That would make it the sixth time that night if she had. But then the sound came again, but from beneath her this time, and she could hear that same sad whispering again.

She turned, and there they were, wet and dripping on the floor, Uryu Ishida kneeling on the floor, Etsuko in his arms. On autopilot, she wound her way around them, to see that Nemu was crying.

"You can't let them... kill me..."

She couldn't have heard that right. They'd only gone to get drinks, hadn't they? Not to some wild party or to a club. That wouldn't have been tolerated. Nemu knew better. But why would she say something she didn't mean? What else could have prompted the almost gloomy girl to be so afraid, so broken, that she'd cry and cling desperately to the arm of the man she'd been trying to run from for years?

But he didn't return the notion, didn't say anything. He didn't even push her away. Just sat there on the stair with her, the girl's white hands trembling as her pleas grew quieter.

Etsuko, eyes still closed, was placed on the sofa, Uryu sitting on the floor beside her, seemingly quieter than usual. He looked horrified and out of breath. His soft gray eyes moved up to meet hers, fingers digging into the knee of his jeans, mouth opening and closing before he finally spoke.

"Hot water," he said, "and... washcloths. Please."

As it turned out, she was just as tongue-tied as the rest of them, her body refusing to respond to the glum request with little more than a nod.

Down the hallway and past the kitchen to the bathroom, it was all dark, save for the light of the television that came from the den. On the floor, Amaya and Haruki slept soundly, fidgeting and sprawling as the screen flickered over them. Really, the four of them should have been in such peace, completely oblivious to the fact that the world outside the windows kept on rolling. That, as the seconds passed them by, there were other things, good and bad, going on across the planet.

It tore her up, standing over the sink with her head bowed, preparing the cloths, all the while hearing that same, weak apology. Over and over again. As if repeating the words a hundred times would change how everything had been over the last seven years. As if it would deny her pain and fear, and silence his bitterness.

Really, Retsu hadn't done any of them a favor by keeping the truth to herself, by convincing herself to keep quiet for the sake of their happiness. It brought her to wonder what Mayuri would do, how he'd react, were she to tell him that she'd gone and reported his actions to the police. First, Retsu had thought that that alone would be enough to set him off. That everything would spiral far out of her control. But, if he'd separated that part of himself from everything else, from her, he couldn't really be called wicked...could he?

It all must have meant something to him...

The water ran for several minutes, her hands beneath the flow as much of the water spiraled down the drain. But, when she looked down at the vanity again, they were gone, and the water had stopped. It was just as well. She'd taken too long, and someone had come to get the washcloths, allowing her to think.

The light was turned off, hands dried on a towel in the dark, and back the way she came. The other rooms were just as dark, a lone light outside shining through the window. There was no sound, but no peace. Just a trail of water that went upstream, up the stairs, while another had slipped out the door. There, in the dark, Etsuko was on the sofa, breathing slowly, covered by a blanket that hadn't been there before. Likely Uryu's doing. He'd seemed so concerned about the whole matter, whatever it was.

But she wouldn't be locked out this time, wouldn't be told that it was none of her affair, wouldn't allow her hands to be tied. Retsu was a part of this now, had been for months now, although unaware, and she would not be told otherwise.

Up she went again, with half a mind to wipe the mess up. But, by the time morning came, it would have evaporated into nothing.

Through one of the door lining the hall, peering in at Akemi again. Still sound asleep. Closed, and another opened, and there was Nemu, curled beneath the blankets of her bed, a towel over her head.

Not once had Retsu seen anything like this from Mayuri. He barely paid any attention to the girl, let alone followed her around, as she suspected he had done tonight. Wet, crying, desperate to feel that she was safe, and she had chosen to cling to him, rather that Uryu. Whatever had happened, it wouldn't be tolerated. People wouldn't make his girl cry, and it had struck quite the chord in her.

To the bedroom, and into the bathroom where she washed up, not daring to turn on the lights. Retsu didn't want to see the worry painted across her face. She could already feel it in the light tremors of her hands. She'd changed into nightclothes earlier that evening, and crawled beneath the sheets, rain pounding against the window.

There wasn't that need tonight, the idea that she ought to say something to him, look at him, to calm her heart. Rather, she feared this usual routine, and so abstained. Out of fear. And it was this that kept her hands bound.

Her eyes closed in sleep.

"You're quite the foolish man... Mayuri Kurotsuchi..."


	34. Dropped On The Rocks

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 34: **Dropped On The Rocks

* * *

><p>He had been awake all night, fighting off the demons that had swarmed into his head, threatening to end him with all manner of gunfire. But he knew better than to think that way, to allow himself to believe something that he knew to be faulty. Office workers like himself never had any reason to be shot at, let alone to kill. Still, they had plagued him, images of himself fighting off the gangs, until daylight filled his window, prompting him to cease pacing and prepare for the new day.<p>

He tugged on his collar now, fearing that, if he didn't get something to drink soon, or at least stick his head out a window, he'd overheat and pass out. It was such a nuisance, being prone to blackouts from his shot nerves, and a night of no sleep hadn't helped him at all. And, so far as he was concerned, passing out was a completely unacceptable move after his transfer, accidental or not. His shoes scraped against the floor with a squeaking sound, leaving a black scuff on the white tile, and the officer leading him down the hallway turned and gave him a funny look.

"Watch it," the older man said, pointing at the mark. "The floors were just cleaned over the weekend. Try to keep them that way, all right?"

The young officer muttered an apology, consciously watching his feet. He couldn't help wondering how he'd gotten stuck with a stickler like this. For the whole of the tour, which had started from the Director's office upstairs, Officer Tachibana had been very much in his face, chastising him for even the smallest of things, like not knowing which pocket was best for him to access his I.D., or which side of the belt he should carry his gun on.

"You're on the investigation team now," he muttered, "so it's only proper that I tell you ahead of time, so you don't feel like you're in over your head. Ever hear about the Irooni Killer?"

Naoki nodded furiously. He'd heard about it off and on for the past few months, having kept an eye on the tabloids in case the perpetrator was caught. So far, there had been several arrests, but no hard evidence to convict anyone. But, aside from that, he didn't really know anything. Headlines had only caught his attention in passing, only to let him down after reading the first paragraph or so.

Perhaps this was a test, to see just how well he'd been paying attention to Japan's biggest headliner.

"I've heard about it," Naoki replied, "but I don't know too much. Just that there's really been no headway in the case. Why...?"

Tachibana merely shrugged, which answered nothing at all, and continued down the hallway, leading him past an elevator, explaining that autopsy and forensics work happened downstairs. An exciting position in Naoki's opinion, given his keen interest and imagination in regards to anything that he was unable to do himself, which made him wonder why the senior officer looked so grim when the comment escaped him.

"I need to know," came the belated reply, "just how well acquainted you are with the situation. Normally, this kind of thing is the Captain's duty, but, seeing how he's out for the day... Those of us under the Captain are investigating the Irooni Case. That's why." Tachibana paused for a moment, stopping to lean against the wall in a huff. "But, as you've likely seen from those faulty headlines, we've made little headway in the investigation. Captain Hitsugaya is an excellent officer, but I don't think he's the right man to direct this ship. He's too young, and he gives up too easily. The Director would be better off organizing these efforts himself..."

That was utterly ridiculous. Naoki himself wasn't very old, a mere month had passed since his twenty-sixth birthday, but he'd always admired the boy the Academy had praised as a prodigy. At sixteen, he'd been accepted into the Academy following an early high school graduation. And, in the past year alone, he'd graduated the Academy and been promoted straight to the rank of captain within the NPA. Rumor had it he was a favorite candidate to succeed the Director in the near future.

"I don't believe that for a second," Naoki spat bitterly. Although he didn't know the captain personally, he was well aware that he wasn't a failure, let alone a quitter. The boy whose name had been golden at the Academy couldn't have succeeded in his endeavors by allowing himself to mope. "That's ridiculous. I've worked for the past year to come and serve under Captain Hitsugaya, not some stuffy old man..."

Tachibana turned on him then, eyes like embers. "Let's get one thing straight, Saotome. The Director is a great man. In his time in this organization, he has put his life on the line more times than any of us care to count. He is the director, _because _he's a courageous and honest man. Anyone else would put the position to shame. So watch your tongue from now on, because I will not have you disrespect him."

Naoki bit his lip as the other officer turned on his heel, continuing down the hallway. Now, people were staring, probably talking as well. He hadn't meant to cause a scene, especially not on his first day at the NPA's main headquarters, but he felt the same way about the young captain. To disrespect someone of his caliber was taboo.

It had all looked so promising the week before, when word had reached him that he was to be transferred into Shinjuku to work under the young captain. It had been the only real dream he'd ever had, to be recognized by someone so much like himself, and now it was coming true. But now, this place seemed so much larger, so much more intimidating, as if all the senior officers were breathing down the back of his neck, waiting for him to screw up as they claimed the prodigy captain had.

He was going to be so lost in this place.

****# - # - # - #****

"_This isn't really working anymore..."_

He'd left that message on his phone, not daring to look at it. He just couldn't. It was horrible, but true, the fact that he couldn't dedicate the time to her that they both wanted. By all standards of average society, he should have been with her, attending class and listening to other students whine about how the world was so unfair. But Toshiro hadn't been able to do that, to remain happy while sitting in a classroom day after day. That's why he'd taken the initiative, spending all his time studying and taking upper-level courses so he could graduate and attend the Academy.

Really, he hadn't once thought about her feelings, about _them. _

Now, when he had tried to talk to her the night before, apologize for his constant absence in her life, Karin hadn't the ear to listen. Toshiro was certain she'd wanted to, but... Well, he couldn't think of a good reason why. He was certain that she supported him in his endeavors, in creating a better city for them to continue growing up in, but maybe they were still just too young for each other. Maybe it just wasn't time for them to be together.

If that were the truth, well, by the gods, he hated it.

For hours, he'd sat alone on that bench in the park, watching the bus pass by as it did every half hour. It was eight now, and, by all means, he should have been on it at six-thirty, heading into the office to compile paperwork and, possibly, arrest petty thieves and the like. But he'd called into the top brass, requesting a sick day, which had been given to him with all the best wishes. Truly, the director was a kind and understanding man.

That thought angered him, all the failures of his short career rushing back to mind. Genius, they'd called him. Prodigy. Masterful. Perfect. Each of those things brought him further down now, the knowledge that he was losing himself becoming too much to bear. This case would be the death of him, his killer having claimed a new, unsuspecting victim.

"May the gods damn the devil."

People had pushed past him all morning long, and it meant nothing when another came along, standing to his right in silence. Toshiro didn't bother to look. He was sick of seeing people, most of them with smiles on their faces. For him, nothing was going right. Not his relationship, his family life... He couldn't even catch the wretched Irooni Killer, let alone the officer somewhere within the NPA who was throwing copycat murders into the mix.

"Looks like you could use a drink."

Toshiro scrunched up his nose, casting a sideways glance at the man beside him. "The legal drinking age is twenty. And I'm a cop. Perhaps I should arrest you for offering alcohol to a minor. "

His thumb slipped beneath the lid of his phone, flipping it up, and snapping it shut again. Toshiro wanted nothing to do with Mayuri and his harassment. He was already in a foul enough mood, and didn't need anymore distractions. A fortunate move, calling in. There would be no chance that he'd run into Matsumoto today, let alone have to deal with her shenanigans. However, the captain did pity whoever would be placed in his stead for the day. The fiery woman had likely decorated his office to make him feel better.

"This city is going to hell."

Not at all a comforting thought, no matter how true it was. Like rubbing salted sandpaper against the wound.

"Yes, that's just what I need to hear," the blue-eyed boy replied. "The perfect way to lift someone's spirits. Well done..."

He was a pain, but not the focus of his despair. At least, he hoped not. Suspicious he was, but Toshiro had met shiftier people. It would kill him were his friend's love interest the one he had been assigned to capture. It would be even worse, he imagined, if his team found the killer, and were forced to kill him. It wouldn't be impossible to prove a dead man's involvement, but would make it much more difficult.

All he really wanted to think about, could think about, really, was Karin.

He'd gone to her house, and, when the door had opened, ignored Ichigo and his irritating behavior, stating that he and Karin would be out for a few minutes. An apology had pushed itself past his lips, and he'd wanted to hold her and cry, too. She'd been crying for so long, and he hadn't noticed, forcing himself to stay in that office after hours, to obsess over pages and photographs that were still leading him nowhere.

It was best if they didn't see each other for a while, she had said.

"Why does it all just... fall apart?" he said, thinking aloud. "Like being dropped on the rocks."

"There are worse things."

He didn't know if that was supposed to be comforting. Toshiro hoped not. It would be far too unusual, even for Mayuri.

"Kindly explain."

"You didn't hear?"

Toshiro sighed, pocketing the device. Not another game. He wasn't interested. "What? Did you miraculously decide on a wedding date? Is that what this is about?"

That certainly seemed to have gotten under his skin. "I hardly think that's your business."

"I don't see why not," he replied coolly, staring across the street. "Retsu's been there for as long as I can remember. She's been everything to us. Family." Toshiro's blue gaze followed a car down the street, moving to another once it disappeared. "And because she's family, it really doesn't matter if you tell me a thing. It doesn't bother me at all. You see, I'll find out eventually."

"Unfortunately..."

The boy grimaced, covering his mouth and nose with his scarf. He couldn't stand to inhale the horrid stench of cigarette smoke, and he knew that this was just another play in the game Mayuri believed them to be playing.

"Your friend Zaraki's gone and gotten his feathers ruffled again." Due to the chilled weather, Toshiro didn't know how much of that breath was smoke. "Some of his little cronies were killed the other night. Knocked off on the pier during some sort of trade."

"I'd love to know how you found that out," the captain muttered sarcastically, wringing his hands. It wasn't the deaths of the Yakusoku members that worried him, but how Mayuri had found out that he'd been operating behind the scenes with the yakuza boss. He wondered how well the snake could keep a secret, or even if he would keep it. "Surely, you didn't speak to Zaraki himself. Otherwise, I'm sure you wouldn't be here. I hear tell he can't stand sneaky bastards..."

The bus roared past again, and Toshiro turned his head away. First cigarette smoke, and then exhaust fumes. Suddenly, people who wandered around the city in hazmat suits, believing that infections were ravaging and controlling the human race, weren't looking quite so strange.

That didn't stay on his mind for long, though. He wondered just how long ago the gangsters had been killed. A few days, to be sure, but what did that really mean? Two, three, four? Somehow, Toshiro ended up with the idea of blood running through the rain, through that horrid storm that had come about just two days before, overflowing rain gutters and flood plains.

But, there was something about the way Mayuri had introduced the subject that bothered him. As if there were something about it that disturbed him.

"It's no secret that few people in this city can keep their mouths shut."

Well, that didn't satisfy his curiosity at all.

Toshiro watched him shrug into the coat, his blue eyes focusing on a dark stain on the man's shoulder.

"What's wrong?" he said, placidly. "Have a fight with the wife? I have it on good authority, from Mr. Kyoraku, that she's not someone you want to make angry."

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

The boy captain certainly didn't like the sound of that.


	35. Lemon And Honey

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 35: **Lemon And Honey

* * *

><p>"We shouldn't be doing this," he whispered from behind her, closing the door. "I don't feel right about this. What if we get caught?"<p>

That wasn't possible, for there wouldn't be anyone home for several hours. At least not until the time school let out, if not later. It wouldn't hurt either of them to miss class for an hour or so. When this was over, they'd rush back before anyone could really miss them, as the teachers rarely took attendance right away, perhaps sneaking back into the classroom while everyone else was busy with lunch.

School books fell to the floor by the shelf, hand feeling about on top until her fingertips brushed against the metal ring, pulling it into her palm. She would have thought that he'd hide a key somewhere much less... obvious.

Uryu stood silently in the doorway, hands in his pockets as he peered nervously over his shoulder. She hadn't asked him to come, had expected that he wouldn't either way. But he'd stuck to her like glue for the past two days, for reasons she didn't know. It had started on Tuesday, him showing up to walk with her to school in the mornings. But had he done that on Monday morning, too? She supposed it only made sense to say that, rather than not knowing, she couldn't remember.

"You're sure we won't get caught?"

She nodded, stepping back onto the floor and across to the desk. They wouldn't be caught, and it wouldn't take long. Just a key in a lock, and a quick look through whatever she found inside the drawer.

There were just papers, labeled and filed the way she'd expected, which made the investigation easier. She sat on the floor and pulled them out, being careful to keep everything in order in the event that he ever noticed.

They flipped between her fingers, brushing the hair in her eyes with the soft puffs of air.

"What are you even looking for?"

"Anything," she replied, scanning the pages. "Anything he might have _conveniently _left out."

One folder back into the desk, and another one in her hands. Black and white print flew in and out of her head, half of it completely irrelevant to what she was looking for. Anything, she had said. Anything that had to do with her mother and everything else she was sure had been hidden from her.

The pages stopped, all but three pages being pushed back into the folder, securely locked away again.

"I knew it. I found you. _Little monster._"

****# - # - # - #****

This didn't feel real, but like a projection upon a screen, things moving at a pace that couldn't be determined. A speed with which it surged on by, and a steadiness that left still frames in her mind. A morning filled with another shift in the ER, curtains being pulled back to reveal injuries of a wide variety, most of which were accidental, in relation to the storm and water that still threatened the streets. Car crash victims and a few young children who had fallen into the flood plains, all of whom looked like they'd rather be anywhere else.

Perhaps even in a coffin.

Noon rolled swiftly around with little of consequence having happened. She had picked up on her usual practice, watching the smiles of the children and parents who walked into her office for their appointments, and back out again. All with the same sort of glee which she couldn't quite place. There had been so little good news as of late, but her patients all seemed to have found that bit of life that just made the sun seem so much brighter. Fortunately, their faces were slowly passing it onto her, like filling up a glass one drop at a time.

The time finally came, as it did each day, for her to hand in the completed charts and tests. Minor, really. A few sore throats and a shot or two, but nothing severe. Were she to keep them there, in that folder that would end up on her desk, Retsu feared to loose them. It had happened once before, and she'd not chance it again.

Through streaked glass she peered, falling back into the chair in peace. Just how long had it been since she'd seen genuine sunshine, a blue sky free from all obstructions? Sometime in the mid-summer, she thought, a good month following Toshiro's last birthday. That is, the anniversary of the day his parents had happily taken him home with them.

He'd been such a little thing, about six or seven, hair just as white and unruly as it was now. Not really a happy child, more serious than anything else, but loving all the same. She remembered their first meeting, which had made his mother laugh until she'd cried.

"What is it you do?" he had asked her, sitting at the dinner table.

Retsu had explained to him that she was a doctor for children like himself. Toshiro had given her an odd look then, leaning onto the table with his elbow, flipping over a bowl of soup as he did. He had then promptly downed the last of his milk, standing on the chair and proclaiming that a pediatrician wasn't a doctor just for kids, but for animals too. When asked why he believed such a thing, he had said that someone at the orphanage had told him so once. That children who went to see the doctor had to wait in the little plastic boxes with the dogs and cats.

It was that very innocence in the eyes of children that made this so worthwhile.


	36. This Boy Fills Coffins

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 36: **This Boy Fills Coffins

**A/N: **Some lemon.

* * *

><p>"Placed under surveillance, you say?" the director raised a hand to his chin, stroking his beard. "May I ask what has prompted you to request such a thing, Captain Hitsugaya?"<p>

He'd called in for a sick day, only to end up in the director's office in the evening hours afterward. He was sure that this reflected poorly upon him, upon the reputation he had held for the past two years, but he couldn't be bothered with polishing something so trite. Between his reputation and acting upon what was appropriate, Toshiro would rather the former be used to start the blaze that would burn him at the stake.

"_When everything works itself out, I'm sure you'll know."_

Those words echoed now in the silence of the office, the words of a dead man. Words that he hadn't been able to decipher in all this time, these months. Words that, he feared, he would never understand fully. What a waste it was that Toshiro hadn't realized it sooner. But he couldn't have noticed what had been staring him in the face, as he was hunting down a murderer on the streets of one of the biggest cities in the world. The safety of the citizens, all possible future victims, had been the foremost thing on his mind.

Not Kisuke Urahara's curious statements.

Staring into the director's weathered gaze, it dawned on him. Urahara hadn't been playing mind games with him. He'd known, or had at least had an idea, who had started this insanity. And he hadn't said a damned thing about it. Toshiro should have arrested him for trespassing on a crime scene, and, had he known at the time that the vendor had been messing with him, he certainly would have done so.

He opened his mouth to give his answer, but the director simply nodded. A perceptive sort, this man, who seemed to be able to pick up on intention and insecurity. He seemed to know everything. The elderly man motioned to the chair before his desk, silently insisting that the young captain be seated. Toshiro didn't move.

"I don't approve of how things are progressing here, Director Yamamoto," the boy said calmly. "With all due respect, sir, I feel that your judgment in this matter, in assigning an outsider to operate within a critical police investigation, was faulty."

The director didn't speak, just laid his hands upon the desk and nodded again in acknowledgment. Toshiro wished he would do something, even berate him for questioning and speaking out against an authority far higher than his own. Perhaps, were he to push the director further, he would be removed from the case, even transferred to another department or division within the city. Thus far, anything would have been better than this. Than being plagued by the thoughts of failure, of not being taken seriously.

What must it have been like, being the perpetrator in a game so vile as this? A challenge, he imagined, given just how far technologies had come in the past twenty years, but also a natural high, trying to think a hundred steps ahead of the police, wondering when he would be caught.

An insider was what all the evidence now pointed to. Someone within the NPA, quite likely an officer, who knew very well that what he was doing was wrong. Not just some mildly-unhinged character off the streets of Ikebukuro. He wished it were the latter, as it wouldn't be quite so devastating as arresting and prosecuting a fellow officer, perhaps even a friend, for the murder of almost thirty people over seven years.

What would prompt a comrade, perhaps one of his own men, to do something so low?

But that wasn't necessarily true. He had to remind himself, almost constantly, that the unknown officer appeared to be little more than a copycat playing the same sick game. By choice, of course, but perhaps in response to the original killer's actions. But the possibility was always there, that there may not be two killers, just the one changing his tactics to make the case that much harder on the NPA.

Regardless of the situation, Toshiro couldn't think of anyone who qualified as a suspect more than Mayuri.

"This wouldn't happen to be a personal matter, would it, Captain?"

Of course the director would have heard of the obvious discord, read the reports, known who had been questioned and concerning what. It wouldn't have been surprising if he knew about Retsu's minor involvement, too.

"No, sir," he lied through gritted teeth. He should have said yes, should have given some indication that it _did _have something to do with the fact that he couldn't stand, and wanted nothing to do with, this man. "It's merely a matter of past performance. Disregard for protocol and..."

A deception that was sending people to the grave.

****# - # - # - #****

Steam filled her lungs, stealing away the crisp air of night as the seconds passed. Her fingertips slid against the glass walls, breaths growing deeper and longer with every touch. She'd only come in to prepare for bed, to quickly wash her face and change her clothes. But this, and the bruising that would follow in the days to come, was more than welcome.

It was much more than just sex to her, even if he didn't think so or even know it. All this made Retsu feel that every moment spent with one clinging to the other brought about some unspoken secret to be remembered. Something that hadn't existed in the past. What worked and what didn't, how long this could keep up, which touch elicited which reaction, what put that dusky glow back into him. The one she'd been missing so much for the past day or two.

Hot water raised temperatures past the boiling point, but her skin could still pick up on the feel of his tongue across the flat plane of her sternum. For a moment, she gaped, forehead pressed into his shoulder, raising her pelvis and securing herself around his waist with her ankles. Mayuri hissed, blunt nails raking against her back, teeth leaving a sharp bite on the side of her neck, her heart aflutter.

Her hand curled around his arm, flattening him against the wall, the skin beneath her fingers raised. It reminded her of all the questions she had, everything she had to know and didn't.

The days away and the nights within are different, both in feel and atmosphere, but the ideas, the thoughts, both turned to dreams in recent slumbers, no longer daunt her. Perhaps, slowly, she's fading into the background of this game he's made, gradually accepting it as a part of a nature she didn't always understand so fully.

He filled coffins, and not in the way he should have.

She'd seen him as someone else, bitter and pessimistic towards the world, ignorant to the unspoken reality that must have pulled her in. Part of her own nature it was, to see people not as villains, not as wicked, fabled demons, but as patients. To have sympathy and compassion even towards those who would not once dare to return the gesture. It seemed that, from the beginning, she'd labeled him as a patient, not a terribly unsteady mind, determined to make a case out of him.

She hadn't seen that he loved secrets, exposing them. There hadn't been another kind of person in her world before, the sort who didn't see everything with the same bright light as herself. Hers had been a place of sun and color, but never any shadow.

It was there now, giving everything a whole other dimension.


	37. Sleepless Nation

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 37: **Sleepless Nation

**A/N: **I really meant to update this over the weekend, but I had company for the holiday, and still have exams to study for. Chapter 38 is about halfway done, so I'll see what I can do with it this week. Oh, and in regards to the last chapter, I don't remember if I made it clear or not, but Yamamoto _is _the NPA director. Well, here's hoping you all had a nice Easter holiday. Best of luck to those of you who, like me, are wrapping up another year of classes.

* * *

><p>"What the hell are you doing down here?"<p>

The officer jumped, turning and knocking several instruments to the floor, scrambling to pick them up when he fell, leaving one of the doors of the storage containers open. His eyes were wide, face about as pale as the bodies he'd been peering at. Mayuri's first impression was that this jumpy new addition was another damned roadblock and a very clumsy idiot. And that was if he were putting it nicely.

Transferred out of another district within the past few days from an office position in Shibuya, or wherever the hell he'd come from. It really didn't matter to him. It was starting to seem that the director, who really should have called it quits by now, was adamant in showing that he favored awarding young prodigies positions of power and responsibility, rather than officers who knew what they were doing, which were really rather far and few between. Not that any number of adolescent geniuses would do anyone any good.

"I... I was just... Looking around..." the officer stammered, pulling himself up. He looked the part of a child too, just years older than the irritating twerp of a captain. "I didn't mean to... It's just... Tachibana was giving me a tour the other day, and we didn't have time to... I wanted to see what it all... looked... like..."

Oh, this one was just brilliant. Another perfect little errand boy to run back and forth to deliver notices to the captain and go on runs for damaging legal stimulants. It was all Hitsugaya's team was good for. Coffee runs and organizing old case files. They'd made no progress, even with a potentially intelligent captain at the head. Not that he'd expected them to. Before being dragged into the NPA to operate, there had always been that suspicion that someone would suddenly get wise to the act and turn him in as a suspect. But being trapped in this rat race as they ran in circles, though the single greatest irritant, had its perks. Everything went through him before being taken, applied to a case, and filed for further investigation.

The police were just as useless as the newspapers reported.

"Saotome, get back upstairs. You have things to do," the captain sighed, wandering into the room. He paused, waiting until the officer ran out and down the hall, shaking. "Well, the tabloids are having a damned field day with your little story."

A newspaper was thrown onto the counter.

"Is this part of the game? Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?"

Toshiro grimaced and stabbed the paper with a finger, not looking the least bit pleased. "What you said the other day. About the Yakusoku playing around on the pier in the middle of the night. What the hell did you tell them?"

"Nothing."

"Oh. You told them _nothing_..." Obvious disbelief.

It was one thing to fabricate evidence for the sake of more pressing matters, for a satisfied curiosity, but another to incriminate oneself of something like this. There was no reason for Mayuri to talk to reporters. If anything, they were worse than the police they were badmouthing. Like roaches, you could never really get rid of the little bastards.

"You think it's funny, don't you? Playing your little games with their secrets..." The boy's hand rested on the table, his eyes to the wall as though he could see the bodies. He followed it, the invisible line, crossing and yanking open one of the storage containers. "Messing with my investigation... Trying to save yourself..."

The team wasn't made up of the most brilliant veteran officers and Academy graduates, but this boy was like some damned drug-sniffing dog, digging through dirt to pick up on the scent of blood that was miles away. Discouraged for a time, but never put down, allowed to rest for no longer than was necessary.

Salvation was what he thought it was. That the reason behind a string of murders was so incredibly base and human, something that he could understand and bring down with certainty in a court of law.

But there was no salvation, no chance for redemption. Just one chance, spread across a period of a lifetime, to do something fulfilling, something worthwhile to at least one individual. When that was done with, there was nothing but a dead end. No afterlife, and no gods the way so many believed.

The people on the outside thought it was so simple. That this was brought about by someone who wanted fame, or notoriety, like men who destroyed famous faces because they could. But it was just the appeal and success, listening, making them wonder when and how they'd die, whether or not they would be one of the next victims. He sought out interesting people, solved their mysteries one at a time, and gave the city the question they'd never be able to answer with certainty.

"You don't think it's enough, do you, Toshiro?" He didn't look at the boy, just stared into the cold chamber that the new recruit had left open. "Somehow, you've come to the conclusion that your inside man isn't really from the inside. Yet, you have nothing to prove it with."

"Is that a confession?"

The boy wanted it to be him, needed someone to carry the guilt, the responsibility, of all these tormented souls. He needed the satisfaction of knowing that he'd accomplished something. That was the only similarity between them. Something to live for, to understand in its entirety. But Toshiro would never have it.

Mayuri ignored him.

"You think that, because you're a cop, you know the ugly side of life, is that it? That being in the line of duty these many months, you have a true sense of the evils corrupting the streets of your city?"

It was a blank face that stared back at him with a slackened jaw. There was no retort, nothing he could say or do, or even think, that would combat the truth. Toshiro Hitsugaya was a stupid, naïve little boy. The only experience he had, the only thing he'd every really done, was sitting behind an empty desk. He didn't know a damned thing.

The child jumped at the sound of the storage door slamming, the metallic sound echoing off the walls for a moment. He looked sick, as though he'd start running to find an appropriate place to relieve the pressure that had to have been building up.

Horrendously pathetic. The brats his age didn't know half of what they should have. Too much time rotting their empty heads with games, running around with their senseless boasts and perverted little inside jokes. They wouldn't last long.

And there it was again as Mayuri laid a hand on the boy's trembling shoulder, the same look of shock and uncertainty that had stunned the rest of those laid in graves and on tables. A moment wasted in wondering just what the hell was going on that could possibly destroy their perfect little worlds. That fear that had spurred on the entirety of this endeavor. The spark of light that, once extinguished, could give all those secrets a voice and a form.

"It's best if you understand now, Toshiro," he sneered. "You have _nothing_ to threaten me with. And _no one will believe you_..."

****# - # - # - #****

His coat was slung over his shoulder as he stood at the bus stop, the same thought echoing through his head. What an idiot he'd been, wandering around in places he had no right being. What had compelled him to think that disrespecting people that way, people whose families were grieving, was permissible? Naoki felt positively dreadful and stupid, tempted to force himself to hoof it rather than take part in the subtle comforts of the city bus.

Tachibana had told him to keep his nose out of affairs that weren't his own, that he ought to stick to the duties he was assigned if he ever wanted to be taken seriously. Rookie, the other officer had called him. Such a derogatory term, given his sensitivity, but it fit all the same. He was still a newbie, much like the captain, but nowhere near as good a man. He should have given it his all back in school, should have spent much less time skipping class and trying to figure out how to sneak drinks before a legal age. He didn't think that the captain had done anything like that during his school days. If he had, then no one would have given him a second thought.

But perhaps he was being too hard on himself. After all, the newspapers seemed to thrive off of stories of the young officer, off of people and their demands that the director remove him from the position of captain. Though he'd only been present a few days, Naoki was damn certain that Captain Hitsugaya was one that the city could trust. He wasn't a corrupt officer, a man who did his duty for the sake of personal benefits. He put others first. A quality that was sorely lacking in many people these days.

Motivation usually filled him when he considered being as great a leader as the captain, but it only served to bring him down tonight. He would walk the route home, and try to do better the next day.

"You're going to miss the bus if you go that way, Saotome. The driver doesn't wait long for stragglers."

He turned back around with a short nod, coming to stand beside the senior officer, eyes averted. Tachibana had that affect on him, as he had a much stronger personality than Naoki's own.

Perhaps, were he to attempt a real, casual conversation with the man, he wouldn't feel quite so intimidated.

"Y-You take the bus, too?" he inquired, fingers tightening around his coat. Naoki chanced a glance at the stern-looking man and swallowed, trying to sound casual. "I... didn't see you this morning."

Tachibana nodded, short hair bouncing a bit as he did. "It's my wife," he replied nonchalantly. "She found a better job further into the city, so she's using the car. I got a ride with her this morning. I wouldn't want her riding this scrap heap anyway."

To ask why would make him look like a fool. There were few people who could be trusted now, and with fear walking behind every man, and hiding in every heart, sincere trust was hard to find. Naoki assumed that perhaps this was why Tachibana had been so hard on him. A new officer, while from another district, could turn out to be an enemy. That was the life they'd all chosen to live as police. To trust no one fully, to see foes around every corner.

A gasp escaped him as the bus slowed to a stop, the doors opening with a hiss. Even living in the city for years, there was no denying the omnipresent anxieties that plagued him. Too many crime shows as a child, perhaps.

Naoki stepped quietly into the bus, one of the lights flickering on and off as he moved down the aisle after Tachibana. He waited until the senior officer took his seat, and settled himself into the next one. If he found himself in a place where he knew someone, if only by name, Naoki would do his best to stick with them for as long as possible. Usually until they insisted he quit following them.

"Why did you join the Force, Saotome?"

The answer was almost immediate, the first thought in his head: To work under Captain Hitsugaya. But, giving it more thought, that notion had only come about after passing through the Academy. The captain was a few years younger than himself, and had only recently brought into NPA. He sighed, ignoring his coat as it flopped to the floor of the bus. Really, he didn't like to think about what a letdown he must have been all this time. About how it had taken him far too long to realize who he was and what he wanted to do with himself.

"To prove a point," he whispered. "But they aren't watching, anyway..."

Shunned, neglected, hated. It was a matter of pride that had driven him away. Pride on their end. If he wouldn't conform to what they wanted, to the things they expected him to do and to become, they would push him away. So he'd distanced himself from them, the people who were supposed to love him regardless of his decisions. His father, a hard man, had scoffed at the idea that his son had wanted to be a police officer. He'd said that they were useless, corrupt, that the profession itself was little more than laughable. Self-service, he'd called it.

Naoki's initial motivation had been to prove his father wrong, to do something that would get back to the man, and encourage him to pay attention. He'd sent letters, newspaper clippings, even photocopied a couple of reports without permission. Over the course of his Academy training, all had been sent back home, and there had been no replies.

"Isn't this your stop?"

The younger man lifted his eyes, his wallet and ID in Tachibana's hand. The wallet must have fallen out of his coat when it dropped to the floor. Reclaiming his possessions, Naoki nodded and stepped off the bus, the cool night air brushing past his face. While the season was cooler, it felt like summer back home.

With all these heavy thoughts on his mind, it would surely be another long, sleepless night.


	38. In The Riverbed

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 38: **In The Riverbed

**A/N: **Exams are over, and I'm on summer vacation, so updates through about chapter 40 should be regular. 39 is in works this very moment. Although, there's a good chance I'll be taking an 8-week summer course starting sometime in early May. Depends on how the schedule works out.

Now, I'm thinking that this may end anywhere between chapters 43 and 50. I'm proud of what I've drafted for the final two chapters thus far, and I'm very excited for the rest of you to read as well.

* * *

><p>It sank so quickly, but stayed at the bottom of the river, unmoving in the water's gentle caress. To reach in and take it back would be too easy, and she wished it would be taken away already. It had meant something once, had been a symbol of something in a story she'd believed in wholeheartedly. So far as the story went, the truth behind it, that symbolism meant nothing. It had been a lie. But for her it would be real, and it would come.<p>

Such a pretty little thing had been part of a ruse, something to keep prying eyes and gossip away. All the same, it surprised her a bit. An intentional lie or not, he didn't seem the sort to care about anything people said. They were all just wasting their own time, anyway. It said more about them than it did about him, though their words weren't far off the mark at all. The color of his psychosis was certainly as dark as was commonly believed.

A hand touched her shoulder, bringing comfort. She knew what he wanted to say: _Are you ready?_

A short nod was the reply to the unspoken question. They had talked once before, but only in jest, about what would happen if they went away together, found someplace else to live. A place where they weren't being watched or controlled all the day long. Someplace far from Tokyo, preferably further than Shinagawa. They had both voiced doubts that anyone would look for them that far out. Or maybe, as she'd suggested, somewhere out in the country, where there would be peace in the night without sirens wailing or thoughts keeping them awake.

It wouldn't take too long to leave the flood plain, run back home, and return with what they both needed. Just a bag or two apiece, barely enough to fill the trunk of his car, before they hopped in and let the engine's exhaust mark the start of their new path.

It was so close, the taste of a different sort of air, but all the previous night, she had asked herself over and over again, "Is this really all right? Do you really want to do this?" There should have been some genuine hesitation, something in her heart that insisted she mull it over much longer than a day or so. But with such a shock being cast upon her in recent days, she was no longer filled with obligation to a man she'd never really known. It had shifted over the years, emerging as a sense of a drastically needed self-preservation.

The law of the great, wide world. Destroy or be destroyed, eat or be eaten.

"I think... we should," she told him, torn up grass floating by.

"It'll be hard, you know."

"Hard, maybe, but better than this. Better than..."

_Lies. _She rolled the word over inside her head, not daring to speak it. She never would again. It would always remind her of him. And she wasn't sure if, when she was gone, looking back on the distant city, she would want to remember.

****# - # - # - #****

It had taken some doing, but he had found them, caught on the anchor of a cargo ship that had docked. Their bodies tied together, back to back, limp and pale and lifeless. A few days soaking in the harbor had done them no favors, as though they'd been left to soak in vinegar like pickled plums. It couldn't have been much of a concern, the idea that the bodies might find their way back to the city. He'd likely assumed that they'd be drowned, or even devoured, out at sea. It wasn't a blessing, he decided. Just a very generous stroke of fortune that had happened to smile upon him.

After this night, he'd take them from this place, fish them from the waters, and leave them someplace where they would be found. They would be whisked away then, a pair of white phantoms to greet him in a day or so. What would that prompt, he wondered. Nothing close to a confession, but perhaps a realization that the unseen image in the clouded mirror was real, and waiting to walk into the room. It was such pleasure he gained from that idea, from the image of an otherwise emotionless mask agape in horror that the tides had brought these victims back from the deep.

A killer who came to fear his victims.

He didn't know about the man who had prompted all this, but Kuhaku certainly liked knowing that people were aware of him, that a headline referring to a potential copycat murderer had shown up. Why, he'd been so pleased by the news, that he'd gone ahead and clipped the article from the paper, sticking it firmly inside the pages of his favorite piece of writing. That of a dead heart beneath the floor, driving its killer mad with fear.

The game he played didn't have to be the same, though it would have presented quite the challenge. Perhaps, had he more time, and a sufficient hallucinogen to administer, he'd have tried his hand at mimicking the tale. But the way the game played out was of little consequence to him. The only objective, like that of his inspiration, was to survive. And to survive, he had to win.

They were toying with dreadful odds, investigators searching every corner of the streets, forcing their minds to remain sharp and aware of each crucial step. Capture was the equivalent of failure, of death. And, like the law of the wild, in a battle between ravenous wolves, there could only be one left to stand atop the mountain.

His pride wouldn't become the knife in his back. He knew he could wait, stick it out longer than the other man.

One of them had to die eventually.

****# - # - # - #****

The last moment like this had been so long ago. A moment where there was nothing but that nameless scent that wafted by with pages turning. It must have been in the summertime, when it had been warm enough for her to sit outside under the sun, listening to the world pass her by. That was the only scenario in which she could concentrate, allow everything to move, to let the ink fall from the pages, leaving them still and blank as the blackened letters sank into her skin. But, when the seasons changed, forcing her indoors, she would imagine those favorite places, like a coffee shop in the center of town, or an empty park bench far away from her front door. Just someplace to fall headfirst into the words.

There was no way to get to those familiar places, for the moon had settled itself high above the pitch-black world outside the window, falling through in rivulets that moved with the curtain as it peered through its own gray shroud. The rain that had fallen would cling to the glass, casting its haunting little shadows across the wall with every move it made. Like it was alive.

But she ignored it.

Dog-eared pages didn't exist in her books. The stories themselves were important, so much that the last handled page would be carved into her soft gaze. No folds, creases, bookmarks. Just a plain number stored away until the time came for its return. It was as though she'd put it on pause for little more than a moment, only to pick it right back up again with all the memories of the last read.

Concentration had decided to elude her tonight, to play an unfriendly game of chase. And so the notions in her head were turned out with the light.

Sitting there, feeling lonely in the dark, it dawned on her. Peace should have taken her over days ago, if not weeks, but there was nothing peaceful about the way she was living. She must have been happy for a time, she knew this to be true, but it seemed to have been sifted right out of her world, like tea through a strainer. It was like running laps around a blank track, not knowing which point on the gravel was the starting line. Of course, there was always a crisp image in her mind as she wondered.

_Him. _

Her hands always found him, even when she didn't want to. Tracing his spine through the shirt, silently remembering the way he would move with her, almost calmed.

"You're cold."

Had Retsu anything to say, she would have. But there was only that twinge of doubt in her, the pressing idea that this was just an elaborate infatuation. That, maybe, he wasn't good for her at all.

"Do you remember," Mayuri didn't move to face her, didn't even open his eyes from what she could see, "what I said to you the first time I caught you with that damned book?"

Of course, he'd turned a question, one that might have irritated someone else, into something that made her smile. Even with his foul mouth. It had been the morning she'd covered for Nemu and Uryu to meet with one another. It was impossible not to recall. Retsu remembered that she'd tried to shoo him away, implying that he didn't know how to behave when he'd tried playing keep-away with the very book that sat on the nightstand. And afterward, he must have decided that the appeal she held, the still unnamed source of fascination, was worth coming back for. Even now, she didn't know what had singled her out from the millions of other people in the city. There must have been plenty of people who were more interesting than she.

So what was it that separated her from the rest of them? What was it that had made the number of thirty-something so desirable that they'd been chosen and, in a manner, harvested for their secrets? Why hadn't she been one of them if he was so set on her?

She didn't know how long this had gone on, in days or even weeks. Just that, before, she'd been happier. She'd felt better not knowing who he was, or even that he was alive.

But what was there to say? What could she say, if anything, to convince him that this wasn't what she had thought it to be?

Retsu withdrew her hand, settling it back into her lap. It didn't feel right anymore, touching, or even being close to him. Maybe she'd forced it, acted upon little more than an impulse one night, wanting something, someone, that she couldn't find or even have.

She didn't move, hair swept out of her face. She just stared, not afraid, but wondering what had gone wrong.

They didn't strike her they way they did before, the hue of the mid-morning sun. Not changed, just another idea, another perception, that overwhelmed her. An amber venom. They seemed to darken by the day.

And, though she hated to admit, it didn't mean anything when he touched her.


	39. What You Don't Know

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 39: **What You Don't Know

**A/N: **I'm thinking that there might be a playlist for this fic. I generally list all the music I listen to when I write, and, when/if I decide to make the playlist, the songs will be listed at the end of the final chapter, which will be 41 or 42. _No, I will not provide downloads or files for anyone, so don't bother asking_.

The final two chapters will be posted anytime between now and next month. It depends on my schedule. Also, for those of you who have been asking, yes, I will be working on a new Bleach AU this summer. Like this fic, it will feature several main characters, and multiple perspectives to assure variety and distribution of plot information. The date that it will be posted is up for grabs, but I can guarantee that it will be up before classes resume in Fall.

* * *

><p>They were active again, the Yakusokus, proclaiming their war on the streets. Already, people had been found dead. Some of them young kids, not yet fully grown, who must have gotten themselves caught up in things far bigger than they'd expected. Bodies carried off in ambulances, some still breathing, while bystanders quivered in fear and ushered children away from the carnage. It was a war, the sources said, that was to be waged against those who had betrayed their trust and killed their brethren. And, the more she heard about it, the more it made her heart sink.<p>

They weren't just after rival gangs.

Another firm confirmation of her silenced knowledge, of a fear that should have run her down. He was a killer, and here she had sat for weeks, putting herself in danger, letting it all go on. All those old ideas came back again, the ones that insisted he'd break sooner or later, because everybody knew that stable people didn't kill for the sheer fun of it. But they'd been dismissed by her feelings, not at all by logic or proof. And now that he was off on another bitter tangent, having found out that Nemu and Uryu had disappeared together, Retsu didn't know what to expect from him. Before, she should have asked herself just how much she was willing to endure. But she still wouldn't have foreseen all of this.

She hadn't said a word on the matter, fearing that she would be met with the worst case scenario. There were a number of reasons for the girl to have left without a peep, but it still didn't feel normal. Not at all like a child hiding in the clothing racks at the store because she couldn't have a snack. There was something dark about the whole thing, and it got her to thinking again, reviving her first thoughts from the night he'd slipped up and told her.

But, and the idea had nagged at her, what if Kanra had been one of his first victims?

People had started dropping dead seven years earlier, and he'd been put at the top of the NPA's list of outside help after suspicions had been cleared. What with nothing to fear from the police, and a newly proclaimed public enemy on the run, he had been able to hide and let them all draw whatever conclusions they wanted to. And it had been perfect afterward. Save for a very distraught ten-year-old girl who must have missed her mother.

It made her sick to even imagine something like that. A man killing the mother of his child, and without a purpose. But, if it were true, it could very well explain just why the girl had run off. But what about the police? Wouldn't she have told them, had she suspected such a thing?

"Why don't you just... stop?" she said, to herself, of course.

It was all she could do to look away from his dizzying pacing, which had gone on for an hour at least, with several attempts to get the girl to answer her cell phone. Retsu half expected to hear it crack against the wall. But there was just the dead tone that filled the air.

It was as if small doses of cyanide had been slipped into her drink over a great length, waiting to drown her out with the final, killing dose. But, rather than endangering her life, it had taken a part of her moral compass, turning the needle around and around until it didn't know which way was north, which way would get the right things done, and herself out alive. The longer she waited, the more she didn't know how things were really supposed to be.

" Let them think that their phantom has died with the mob." Why was she pitching ideas? Just how far had he reeled her in? "Just stop."

She didn't even realize that they'd moved, that she was standing over that chair again, but without the broken glass and his disdain for her.

"I'll think about it."

Retsu sighed. Why the hell did she still want to believe him? There was a good chance that everything up till now had been fabricated, the blanks filled in by her own desires to make it feel real. With the way he was, the things that drove him, she knew better than to think it would stop. It wasn't just a stupid game. It was the pride of walking out of this unscathed, of outdoing the advances of both people and technologies.

This was all about proving he could do it.

"No, you won't."

"No, I won't."

****# - # - # - #****

"I already told you! Just _looking_ for him isn't enough! You can't expect to be praised for your work when you're not doing anything of consequence!" His voice was far higher and louder than it needed to be, the sound ringing in his own ears even as the officer on the other end of the line attempted an explanation. Toshiro shook his head. "That doesn't matter, I told you. I don't give a damn if you've seen a gang of suspicious thugs, understand? Our priority is Saotome! Not the yakuza! Now, find him!"

He was certain the thing had broken, with the force he'd used to hang up. Toshiro couldn't care, couldn't even file the paperwork that was sitting on the corner of his desk, seemingly growing taller by the minute. All he could focus on were the files, thirty-six reports involving the emergency phone calls, ambulance papers, photographs, and autopsy reports. Saying that his eye was trained to uncover falsehood wouldn't be close to the truth. The one at hand was his first true case, and it seemed hellbent on keeping him from anything that might bring about peace.

Like sleep.

Four cups of coffee later, and at eight at night, he was wired, leg bouncing beneath the desk as he fought to find inconsistencies in the files. But all the end results made sense from what he could see. Nothing doctored, no line left untouched by ink, and it still didn't feel right. So, he decided, it must have been a ploy, the idea of a copycat killer, to throw them off the game. Mayuri must have altered his killings to make it appear as though there were a second set of hands involved, someone on the inside who had access to the case records.

His attention was thoroughly divided, by the potential of the words left ringing in his head, and by the fact that Naoki had been missing for the entirety of the day. He'd called in late, yes, but only to say that he'd be along around nine because he's missed his ride, an hour past his designated clock-in time. That was it. Just one phone call, and then nothing.

Then came the notion to pick up the phone, to call the patrolling officers back and tell them to find and apprehend Zaraki. His gang was the cause of this newfound source of panic, roaming the streets and hunting people, even boys like himself, down like animals. Yes, animals. That's what they were, the lot of them, and it made him ill to know that they could kill with such precision and ease. But, unlike their equally infamous enemy, the members of the Yakusoku didn't give a damn about cleanliness, about leaving a crime scene virtually untouched by prints and fibers. No. They were in it solely for the glory of it all, not the least bit concerned with living to fight another day.

The vengeance, that would be dealt out by their brothers, assuaged them of any fears they may have held.

"You're running yourself ragged, Shiro," Matumoto laughed, waltzing into his office. "Everyone's on edge because of it."

"While it is mere minutes after eight, and you are off the clock, I am still to be addressed by my given title, Matsumoto," he replied, slapping the folders shut and stacking them. "And, as reparation for that _slip-up_, your final duty of the night can be to return these to the records room while I sift through personnel files... again."

The woman then quickly heaved the stack into her arms, but didn't move. Toshiro could feel her watching him with intrigue.

"Sounds like a lot of fun. Sifting through team files for a madman," she chimed, a bit too cheerily, as she peered over his shoulder. "Well, I know one thing's for sure. There's no way that a beautiful woman like myself could even come close to being a suspect in such a gruesome case."

Toshiro grew rigid in his seat, directing her towards the door with an arm. "_Goodnight, _Matsumoto."

When her chatter finally left his office and vanished into the hall, he leaned back over the desk, sitting on his legs so as to keep them still, staring at the letters on the file tabs. Of course, there was the one that he wanted to jump to immediately, but he couldn't bring himself to put all his chips in one place until doubt was no longer a factor.

Despite the coffee, he was thoroughly exhausted, and already bored from just thinking about looking through all that paper. So, in a vain attempt to make it more interesting, Toshiro pulled open his desk drawer, and started at the back.

Tachibana's file had been easily dismissed. He'd been in the NPA for nearly twenty years, and hadn't put a so much as a blemish on his record. Every duty had been fulfilled as requested, as expected, with top marks in the Academy, and positive feedback from every commanding officer to date. The same couldn't be said for too many of the men and women he worked with, least of all Saotome.

He was foolish, far too carefree, and had been forced to repeat a course, that of the proper use of firearms, twice due to flighty accidents when it came to hands-on training. The man's overall career wasn't far too impressive, either. Dispatched multiple times to handle minor disturbances, which had ended poorly for every partner who had been unfortunate enough to be on the same assignment with him. One woman had ended up having a heart attack due to Saotome's inability to properly operate a patrol car during a chase, while his last partner had been sent to the emergency room to be treated for a broken nose.

Toshiro wondered who in their right mind had decided that he'd be the right one to handle a clumsy idiot like that.

"You're really trying to be unbiased about this, aren't you, Captain?"

The boy dropped his head, slamming it on the desk with a solid thud. Why did everyone interrupt him when he was busy working?

"Of course. My personal ideas shouldn't interfere in things like this. It's not by choice that we're assigned these cases, and we're expected to behave professionally. Not jump to conclusions based on our own selfish assumptions about people." Toshiro flipped open another file, scanning the pages. "That's when things go wrong."

"But you are letting your feelings get in the way," the officer stated. "That's why you're struggling, Captain. It's why you can't wait to reach the halfway point in that stack. Am I wrong?"

He wasn't, but Toshiro pressed his lips into a paper-thin line, trying to put his judgments out of his mind.

It was all so off-putting, his behavior, his methods, everything. There shouldn't have been any kind of emotional attachment when it came to Retsu. Based on everything Toshiro had observed, it was an early ace. Mayuri had likely counted on the fact that he wouldn't interfere in the affairs of a woman he considered family.

Toshiro turned to the window, leaning back in the chair. "Tell me, Tachibana. Do you really think that there's a copycat killer running around somewhere, or is he just a phantom to throw me off?"

"I can't say, sir."

Of course not. These people weren't going to do anything. Just stand there and watch him burn.


	40. When Night Has Fallen

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 40: **When Night Has Fallen

**A/N: **Okay. I've gone back through the story, and found that there are a few more things I want to put into it before I end it. So my concrete decision is that the final chapter will be 44. Again, you all can expect my next AU sometime this summer. Delays are going to be present, as I have to write around my work schedule.

* * *

><p>He couldn't stop, couldn't even slow down long enough to watch the streetlights pass as he ran. But why was he running? Had there been a call? Was he being chased? Toshiro didn't know, but that didn't stop his feet from carrying him forward.<p>

There weren't voices or people in the city, or any sign of the shouts that usually rang out in the heart of the city this hour of the night. Not even the sounds of cars passing him by. They were all gone, the realization coming with the one that he hadn't seen even the flickering sign of light. He was running alone along a wet, empty road, the lines on the gravel as the only things that shot their color towards him in this gray world.

White and yellow lines, his only companions.

Down one street and up another before he stopped before large glass doors, peering into an obviously empty building. His eyes darted up to the sign, but there were no letters. Another look over his shoulder, this time to the street signs and billboards, and still nothing. Just plain empty pieces metal and wood, swathed in a cool gray. But there were puddles, strewn across the cityscape so far as he could see the ground, moving gently towards him, pooling at his feet.

So he watched, fascinated that the lifeless liquid moved as though it were attracted to him like a magnet. Still no sound as he stared, his face appearing on the ground to look back up at him in color, people walking quietly by.

Back to the building his gaze went, finding that it was still gray. As if the rainwater on the ground had sucked the life, the color, the words, out of everything in the real world, trapping it in this intangible state of fluid.

In the reflection, a man stared at him, so familiar, and with the kindest eyes. A smile crossed his face, almost melancholy, as he placed his hand on Toshiro's shoulder, his lips moving to utter words that the boy could not hear. So enchanted by the scene, by the face of his father, the captain didn't see the man reach into his pocket before walking away with a tear. At his feet was a chipped teacup, the one his father had used and loved each morning to the point of it breaking.

Not a thought was in his head as he knelt into the water, taking the cup gingerly in his hands to collect the liquid, staring at it with a sort of certainty. It seemed the only way to read and see and understand the world that had been taken away, this strange rainwater, and so he would use it.

Through the doors of the building he went, heading to the blank directory on the wall. He tilted the cup towards the sign, taking a moment to read the backwards lettering to read one word: "Elevator." In a building so large as this one, there really should have been more to see, more to explore, but it seemed that the fates wanted him to go a certain way. So he followed the direction, walking down the hall and slapping the button, waiting.

There were only three of them, Toshiro and his two reflections in the cup and the cold elevator doors, and they were terribly alone. With no one to speak to, he just stared, studying his placid expression, curious as to why he hadn't panicked, being trapped here. He must have grown up too fast, true to the words of his mother and others, namely family and friends. Too obsessed, they'd said of him, with becoming a good man. No time, no desire, to be a child. He'd never thought it true, but it could have been.

How strange it was, he thought, staring into the cup, that his eyes were no longer that cool ice blue, but a dull and dingy gray. The light on the elevator changed from gray to white, and, in the instant before the doors opened, his eyes were blue again, staring back at him from his reflection within this otherwise colorless world.

He stepped forward, turned, and then nothing.

It became bright, a white light that made him shut his eyes and grimace, joined only by a chill that made the hair on his neck stand at attention, as if a cold winter wind had come and blown his scarf off at the bus stop. It could have been a burst of flame or even an explosion, but without sound and color, he couldn't know. So he dropped to his knees, forgetting the teacup as he covered his face for protection.

There was a gentle sensation that came to him in the following moments, a pure, genuine sound falling upon his ears. A song, and the soft humming of a voice that he couldn't place. In those gentle notes, he heard words, a woman's voice, promising him that everything was fine.

He found himself in a closed-off room, no doors, no windows, completely bathed in white, with a table in the center. So he approached it, hand reaching out to graze the surface, but as he did, it vanished. Toshiro opened his mouth to speak, to see if anyone, if this unseen woman, would reply, but nothing came. No voice, no song, not even the sound of his own frightened breathing. He needed to leave, find a way out of this place and back to collect his things so he finally go home for the night.

The captain turned his head to find that a door had appeared. It was a cool relief that spread through his veins, but as he turned to reach the door, he stopped, frozen. Another flash and another song, both giving way to black this time.

Again, his eyes opened, but to the sight of a tiled ceiling and bright lights instead of a dead expanse.

_I shouldn't be here. _he thought, peering around the room. It was all familiar now, the walls line with counters, cabinets, and storage containers. He was in the morgue in the basement at headquarters. He could hear them, the voices from behind those small doors, mocking him, calling him to them as if he belonged. _But I'm not... I can't be... _

"You're really not worth the time," came a sigh. "Any idiot could guess how you died based on the bruising." He heard a distinct snap and the clattering of metal. He felt something tap his side. "Internal bleeding. Idiots..."

A light breath of air fell upon his face, the sound of falling papers reaching his ears. He turned his head to stare at the file, the kind one would find in the morgue. It stared back at him, the photograph of the man who had died. Scribbles on the page, and something that looked like a mild description of a car accident along with various injuries. But there, at the bottom of the page, was a note that the man had died of blood loss.

_Dammit, that's not me!_

This was the last thing he'd expected, even running through some dead, colorless realm that had no name. He couldn't have anticipated being seen as a corpse on a table, listening to a psychopath drone on about the fact that there was nothing interesting about confirming the cause of death in a crash victim.

"If this weren't part of my job description, I swear I wouldn't bother..." Another snap, and a sensation of cool metal against his sternum. Toshiro gasped, immobilized as he felt his body, which might not have been his, being pried open. Then those eyes, obvious in the fulfillment of playing with a cadaver, came into view, blood strewn across the man's face and clothing. "But it's the only thing that keeps me genuinely entertained. It's why they have to keep dying."

He felt it then, a hand falling upon his shoulder, squeezing and shaking him.

"Captain, wake up! Hey! Captain, there's an emergency!"

Blue eyes popped open, Matsumoto's red hair falling across his shoulder and into his face. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, only half listening to what it was she'd been shouting about.

"You have to hurry!" she insisted, giving him another good shake. But her fearful expression subsided when he looked up at her, still dazed. "On the west side, down the block from the Kingyoso. At the construction site. Someone called in to report a body." Matsumoto pulled his coat from the coat rack, throwing it into his arms. "Koizumi's on patrol, and said he'd report in, but we haven't heard anything back about the severity of the situation."

Toshiro nodded, breathing deeply. "How long ago did the call come in?"

"About ten minutes ago."

He should have been home, comforting a mother wrought the world over with worry, not waking from a fitful nightmare at his desk. Standing, Toshiro pulled on his jacket, fastening the zipper before reaching into his desk drawer for his gun. His elbow bumped the stack of files that had been sitting on the corner of his desk, sending them sprawling to the floor. Grimacing, he knelt to collect them, but Matsumoto pushed him towards the door.

"I'll take care of them," she said.

The captain nodded his thanks, fastening the weapon to his belt, and following up with a quick check for his keys and badge. Stepping across the threshold of the door, his foot fell upon one of the folders whose pages had been scattered into the hallway. Quickly he picked them up, staring momentarily at the name on the label.

If the gods were kind, he would end this tonight.


	41. Say Red

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 41: **Say Red

**A/N: **My intent was to get this finished by the one-year anniversary of having posted it, but I doubt that will happen. I thought the anniversary was the 22nd, but it's the 13th. So 44 is not going to be up by then. I have changed jobs, so that's more of a contributing factor now.

Now, due to the recent news from the site, that of deleting stories with violent and/or sexual content, I will not be posting the new AU here until this clears up. Hopefully, it will. If not, you can find it on my LJ writing comm, as listed on my profile. The first chapter of the fic, entitled The Mechanical Grave, has been posted there. I intend for it to be at least as long as this one.

While this is still not yet finished, thank you to all my readers for bearing with me this far. It's been so much fun creating this plotline and receiving such marvelous feedback.

* * *

><p>"Don't cry... There's nothing to cry about..."<p>

She held her, rocked the child in her arms, gently tapping her back with a hand. The screaming had sent her into Akemi's room, and now had her listening to muffled sobs about a nightmare. Retsu could have asked what had scared her so, but a three-year-old only knew how to define ghosts and monsters as sources of fear in the night. Not at all the things that people like herself worried about. Things like survival.

And with that thought, she believed she knew what had been within her child's head. Something like a night where lanky shadows walked among the people, leeching life away with their touch, the bodies hitting the streets with empty eyes wide open.

They were everywhere, the reminders of that which she'd tried to deny. Always the most prevalent in her head, the one place where she could not escape and find pure solace.

"I want Daddy..."

So innocent, the words cut her. She'd sat up waiting, had fallen asleep wondering if he was going to bother coming back. They hadn't exchanged so much as a word over the past couple days, the obvious distance between them only growing. It would keep on, and she would keep on wondering:

"Why?"

****# - # - # - #****

Lights flashed across his face as he pushed through the crowd of people that had gathered, barking at his officers to get them the hell out of here. News crews and magazine writers darted about, trying to worm their way past the barricade to get a decent shot of the crime scene. A construction site with materials soaked through with blood, the drained bodies half-buried beneath the start of the building's foundation.

Cameras flashed from the crowd and the scene itself, writers gathering photos for a paycheck, and doctors for the investigation. It was so terribly messed up that people could stand around like this were some show at a circus, that it was an act to be laughed at and treated like a means of entertainment. It was sickening, knowing that so many of these people would soon turn away and share their story, the tale that they'd been present at a murder site, as if it were something to be proud of.

Light flooded the site, the scene burying itself in his eyes.

A scream rang out, the people shouting and pointing to the top of the crane. As quickly as he had turned, down came a shadow, suspended on the hook, swinging about for a time before it fell, landing with a crippling sound. Toshiro didn't feel himself running, didn't realize that he'd moved until his hands fell upon the shadow, the form of a man, nearly breaking in his arms.

"Tachibana..."

To his shock, the officer opened his eyes, staring up at Toshiro, raising a hand to cling to the captain's shirt before falling back in a deadly silence.

Toshiro had never seen a man die. In fact, he hadn't even known that his own father had really died until the doctors had said he wouldn't wake again from sleep. But this was a whole different matter from being present while someone slipped away in slumber. Here he was, kneeling in blood, clutching the broken body of a man, a comrade, in his arms, feeling his last breaths as they were sent sky high, never to return.

It had all seemed so surreal before, people dropping dead, the calls bringing him to meet their lifeless corpses. Maybe he hadn't taken it seriously at all, not once seeing them as their mortal husks dropped to the ground with wounds open and bleeding.

Walking away, he realized how cold he must have seemed. It should have scared a boy like him, to know that a man, his loyal comrade, had become a victim in a game that he had been unable to end. But, and this brought him little solace, the dreams he'd been having, the nightmares, had been a by product of his unease.

He tried to wipe the stains away, using a napkin he must have shoved into his pocket by mistake. But the shirt was ruined, the blood soon to dry out and turn brown, perhaps even begin to flake a bit. The napkin was crumpled up and returned to the pocket it had come from as Toshiro retreated to the hood of his patrol car.

This was too big a gesture to be filed as anything less than a new case, if not that of the presumed copycat roaming about.

"Captain! We've found something!"

Toshiro followed the sound of the officer's voice, stepping over the bloodied pieces of lumber with a scowl on his face. Although outside, the area smelled absolutely putrid. Like iron, gravel, and something that reminded him of his aunt's cat box. Four bodies, aside from that of his now fallen comrade, littered the dirt, still leaking from severed arteries. Men darted past him, photographing and bagging evidence.

One of them stopped him, holding out a small plastic bag and a flashlight.

"The medical examiner just found this, sir," he said, swallowing. "It was found in Tachibana's mouth."

Toshiro stared at the bag in his hand, recognizing it as a piece of paper. Lifting the light above his head, he squinted, working to make out the smudged characters that lay upon it.

"Is this what I think it is...?"

The officer nodded slowly. "I believe so, sir."

His hand closed tightly around the bag, teeth grinding together. "Dammit... I should have known..."

****# - # - # - #****

How they could have come back, he didn't know. He should have been over it by now, having falsely passed off their deaths as an accident nearly a week ago, but it was strangling him. They should have been lost the night he'd offed them, the remains fouling the sea for weeks to come. Yet, they'd found their way into the public eye, sprawled across every news network and paper in the city, cameras hounding the police for information. He didn't know which had been worse. Listening to the brat captain howl about this latest irritation, or feigning part of the innocent he wasn't.

Both were a dreaded pain in the ass, but nothing in comparison to the newest development.

It shouldn't have bothered him at all, knowing that she hadn't come home the night before. And it wouldn't have, were he the perfect psychopath everyone imagined him to be. It only irritated him because of who she'd run off with. The smarmy little bastard who'd wormed his way into the girl's shallow affections. Assuming she really had any. Frankly, it was continuously pissing him off. Mayuri decided that he should have killed the boy when he'd had the chance.

He paid them no mind, the obnoxious women darting around, trying to drag men into their propositions. They'd tried him too, and he should have listened. He'd have found another willing target for a game of his own, but there was nothing in him that was the least bit interested in the minds of hookers. This wasn't at all meant to be a modernized replay of nineteenth century London.

And while on the subject of women...

She was every bit the enigma that the girl had been. Maybe even more. Always warm, always smiling, always putting insurmountable faith towards deities that, by every natural and scientific law of the world he knew, couldn't possibly exist. Still, he'd held onto her for the sake of understanding, bringing about the incessant reminders of the insanity, of the sting that he still couldn't figure her out, simple as she should have been. A perfect little optimist, immune to the general methods of deconstruction that would have broken any other woman long before.

She had been meant as little more than another discovery, a cut above the cadavers that hadn't the choice to speak or relate their fears. And, because she'd been intended as a test, a living, breakable subject, it should have been simple to tear her down, strip the pieces from the machine, comprehend, and put everything back.

The fact that he'd held on, just to be constantly disappointed by a failed test, only served to convince him further of the belief that he was a complete masochist. Because normal people just didn't have fun experimenting with pain.

She shouldn't have surprised him, sitting there with arms folded the way she always had. He'd been seeing her for a while, for weeks now, trying to pretend that he wasn't so that she'd just disappear. But the fact that she hadn't continued to prove that she was in his head. It wasn't at all possible for a spirit, a temporary apparition, to appear based on the will of the gods. And, even if they did exist, they didn't have any control anyway. Least of all over him.

"_She's going to leave, you know. " _

And what was he to do about it? He hadn't kept her tied to him, hadn't forced her into anything, and now she was acting like another pathetic victim, trapped in the vortex of his supposed insanity.

She looked so real, sitting there, staring back at him, anticipating a response of some sort. But he wouldn't give it, least of all to a figment of his weary imagination.

"_Are you going to stop her?"_ It was a sad smile that played upon her lips. _"Rather, do you think you can? What happens if she leaves? What will you do then?"_

They seemed empty questions, but even in death, it was just her kind way of expressing her disdain for the fact that he was irreparably screwed up by every standard of humanity.

"It's none of your damn business."

He didn't believe she was there, and yet, he was talking to her, like she'd never even gone. Talking to a very vivid _hallucination_.

It wouldn't do anything to satisfy him, the boredom, the uneasiness, or even make her vanish, but he'd decided to play at a very boring phone conversation wherein the other person did most of the talking. At the very least, it would keep people from bothering him.

The glass on the table continued dripping moisture down the sides, still untouched. "There's no reason for you to keep coming back. It's more of a damn pain than anything else."

"_Maybe not. But I worry. That much you haven't been able to change." _She looked across the room to the door, her expression changing as she lowered her gaze to the tabletop. _"He's coming. And he'll keep coming until this ends. Until the game ends."_

The game. That's what this had all been about. Getting the hell away from any and all possible distractions for a bit of peace. For a moment to replay the events of the last several months. It reminded him, seconds before contact, that he wasn't the only serious threat out there.

"Funny running into you here, of all places," the newcomer said, a lilt in his voice. The young officer, the timid one, was watching him, smiling. "The captain's got everyone looking for you. Lucky for me, I found you first."

What a load of crap that was. If the brat had wanted to find him, he'd have sent someone with a spine. But, looking at him now, Mayuri wasn't even sure if he was staring at the same fearful little bastard as before.

"Why don't we... step outside?"

Anyone on the outside would have seen it as an ordinary request. And it would have been, were it not for the pressure of a weapon being pressed into his side. Hell, if he was going to play the "little chat" card, the coward should have at least played it safe and feigned an arrest instead of all but handing his suspect the blade that would kill him.

Outside, it had started to snow, slush piling at the street curbs, falling into the drains as water pushed on by. Lights slowly blotted out by the white curtain, the night air still, wind absent.

"The thing is, I'm just like you." Naoki spoke slowly, leaning against a vacant bench on the side of the road, a smug smile on his face as he stared lovingly at the skyline. A simple statement to anyone on the outside, but to Mayuri, it gave the answer he'd been looking for. This transfer was the bastard he'd been hunting. "That's why they've dubbed me a copycat. Your shadow, as it were."

"You should know that it's not a compliment."

Naoki turned, seemingly stunned for a moment before he brought that damned smile back. He didn't have any right to act so proud. Bastard hadn't done anything on his own. Not really.

"I have an idea," he grinned, standing. "We already know all the players in this game, so that air of genuine unease has gone. We should bring it back. Take our game, and bring about the final round." There came a soft click from behind, the sound of a handgun discharging empty air. The weapon and a clip were placed on the bench."Get me?"

Kill each other, but not at all in a way that would bring about any genuine entertainment. But Naoki was being vague about the rules, likely expecting a bit of deception or an attempted knife in his back.

Mayuri hated guns.

"Think of it as a game of tag," the officer smirked. He raised a finger. "One shot, just one, to decide the winner. Now, if we're the same, and I think we are, then it'll be non-lethal, leaving plenty of time in the aftermath for more... entertaining and traditional methods."

"Imitating another's genius because you can't create your own." Mayuri grimaced, turning to stare at him. "You're nothing like me."

The boy turned his back and waved. "You're right," came the light-hearted laugh. "Actually, I'm _better _than you."


	42. Rats In A Cage

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 42: **Rats In A Cage

**A/N: **This story hasn't been touched since I switched jobs, and for that I am sorry. Currently, my plan is to put "The Mechanical Grave" on hold until I get to chapter 44. Speaking of which, I've made another adjustment to this story, and have decided to end it at chapter 45. I didn't want to cram too much into this chapter, as it makes things... messy, so I've bumped it up.

I'm not sure when you all should expect 43, but I can promise it'll be before October. You know. Classes starting up again this month on top of work and whatnot.

* * *

><p>There had never been any explanation, no fuss, and thus no reason for such a little boy to care. Three, maybe four, years old, and completely oblivious to everything and anything that was too great for a child's mind to comprehend. Death, danger, finance, everything. And so, the whole event had been nothing to him. A man, practically a complete stranger, walking out long before a genuine memory could be formed. It hadn't mattered, having been so small, so wrapped up in things that, once grown, would end up having no value.<p>

He hadn't known that everyone had talked. Taking pity on a quiet little boy and an ever mourning mother, all wondering what had prompted the man to leave them in the first place. And so he'd grown, with a constant curiosity about the world and the things living in it.

Not once had he genuinely given a damn about the man whose face he had only seen in photographs.

Yet, during every horrendously dull visit that came as time wore on, visits to those lunatics waiting to fill prescription pads, they had attributed it to his behavior. And it was shameful. Shameful that boys couldn't grow and be who and what they were, impulsive, curious, even a little violent.

They had always started with the same questions. How it had felt to lose him, what he remembered about the man, and so on. But the answers he gave were just like their meaningless questions. The same. He didn't know anything about him, and he didn't care. In a nutshell, the man meant nothing to him.

So why had they continued to press him? Why did they continue to insist that his violent adolescent behavior had stemmed from a feeling of abandonment?

It was all lie, a lot of nonsense, or whatever the hell else it could be called. How could a child have hated, been attached to, or even felt abandoned by, someone who had never been present, who had only ever been known by an empty name and a picture in an album?

They echoed then, the shots in the distance, and he woke, leaving such absurdities behind. They were far enough away to be decoys, if not practice. Regardless, this was all one hell of a disadvantage. A police officer was thoroughly trained in combat, with or without firearms, and tested relentlessly before being issued his own, perhaps required to understand the mechanics of the weapon, and instances appropriate for its use. The latter not applying to the situation at all. This was anything but an appropriate means of recreation.

But with this being a game, initially one of his own creation, and what with him refusing to lose a mimic on his own terrain, it had to end with his opponent being seen as the killer. Prior to his death, of course.

Above, not a shred of sky could be seen. Not darkness, but white snow raining down upon the city, growing heavier by the hour. So just how long had this been going on? Certainly long enough for the both of them to be exhausted, let alone freezing out in the middle of a potential blizzard. It had started between eleven and midnight, the clock now resting around three-thirty. Anywhere from three to four hours. Far too long to be outside in temperatures like this, and without sleep or warmth.

"_Let go of the game, and stop chasing phantoms. Let the nightmares end." _

Gods, why in the hell wouldn't she go away? He hadn't the patience or energy to continue entertaining these visions. He had a game to finish and a man to kill.

But that clinched it. She was just a lie, a memory, stuck in his head. How else would she know about the nightmares, the fears? He could have called that fear death, but it would have false. Death was years away, like to catch up to him in the depths of night. And it didn't matter. Everybody had to die someday, and they would all go with regrets. He'd rather invest himself in something worthwhile, something thrilling, and die knowing that the rest of the damn world could only wonder why and how these things had happened. That would be a genuine victory. The only other way, at least that he could see, was to pass the blood on his hands to someone else with his own death. But what fun would it be, dying before being granted the chance to revel in his victory?

The outcome didn't matter. The only real failure would be wasting his talent. Death without an adequate life would be the true nightmare.

Acknowledging her would be a waste, precious energy spent to keep alive the ghost that he didn't need on his shoulder. So he sat there, the collar on his coat curling up around him, pushing the cold away. In his pocket, he hated it. Hated the feeling of this damned thing in his hand. There was no real satisfaction in killing with a gun. It was quick and clean enough, but who the hell wanted that? What person didn't want to understand and see and feel the emotion that came with watching, hearing, their victims die?

Maybe those voices, the hallucinations, brought about by his tired mind were right. Maybe he really was fucked up for taking pride in that sort of thing.

What mattered was that the phantoms chasing after him were real. And they all had to die.

**# - # - # - #**

Again, they were strewn out in front of him, a puzzle with no guide as to its proper completion. He must have mulled it over a hundred times, coming to the same conclusion. That which he wanted to believe. But it would hurt something awful, not only his career and ego, but his friend's lifestyle, were he to go based on a gut feeling and yield an incorrect outcome.

With his staff at the crime scene, he'd turned himself around for a moment to collect the files again and to, not look, but listen in hopes that something new would come about.

But just sitting there, staring at the pile brought him nothing. There was nothing to consider, as they all seemed to be senseless. Empty murders, void of any real point. The only recurring factor being the killer's infamous title. Color. Perhaps an obsession with color.

"No, that's stupid..."

It wasn't an obsession, but a card. Just a joke, another pawn in the game to over complicate things for his end. And it was working. The more he tried to understand, the further into the labyrinth he went.

Toshiro didn't notice until the slap of the file upon his desk sent a light gust of air into his face. He'd grabbed a victim file from the center of the stack of reports; the nineteenth from the top. The woman's eyes looked up at him from the photographs, seeming so familiar. The woman he'd met that night at the bus stop. The woman who had been waiting in the cold with her travel cases packed and ready to go. The woman who had been killed in her hotel room mere hours after having run into him.

Remembering her, he was immediately sickened. Bothered by the fact that her last living relative had been so damned willing to pull her apart. The idea alone was enough to make him retch. It was fortunate that he'd been unable to eat for the entirety of the day.

Her case had been different. Killed in secret, rather than on the streets, and the only victim without the signature color left on the body. Skull crushed on one side, bones and vertebrae shattered. The methods with this case differed from those used in the previous murders. And yet, every murder after this one had resumed the previous methods of play, confusing him. It made him feel like the copycat idea had a bit of merit.

It made sense to say that serial killers had a singular means of communicating that each victim was the product of the same vicious mind. He felt confident in saying that they had a pathological need to maintain their pattern, their signature, that perhaps stemmed from pride. Changing tactics in the middle of the game could only mean one of two things. It was either an attempt to confuse his team, or a play by a copycat to show the distinction between himself and the genuine article.

His phone blared then, swept up into his hand before the end of the second ring.

"This is Hitsugaya," he said flatly, eyes not leaving the page. The more he stared at it, the louder that name rang in his head.

The voice on the other end was frantic, perhaps frozen over by the blizzard brewing outdoors, reporting that gunshots had been fired, bullet holes having been found in the crates of the warehouse district while a squad had been searching the area for Tachibana's killer.

Toshiro didn't know what he had said into the receiver, just that he had put down everything else and slipped back into his coat, a personnel file folded up and crumpled in his hand.

The lights were turned off, the door to his office closed as he traversed the darkened hallway to the front door. A hand pushed against the glass, and he was outside, complexion blending in with the white coat of his sweet city. He knew her streets, her people, and yet, it had taken him this long to understand just what had been going on under his nose.

Inside his car, the engine roared, falling upon his muted ears. As he pulled out onto the street, there was something he remembered that his father had told him as a little boy. He'd been teased at school, harassed for being so small, for having such an outlandish hair color. He remembered coming home one day, throwing his bag on the floor, and, in tears, demanding to know why the other kids liked to make him cry. His father had picked him up and explained that most people did things that made them feel good. They would tell lies because it made them feel stronger, take things because it made them feel smarter, make fun of others because they needed to feel like they were superior.

"Some people," he recited, "do awful things because they feel like there's something to gain. Even when they're only losing themselves."

And, from where Toshiro was standing, they had already lost it all.


	43. Ashes Upon Dawn

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 43: **Ashes Upon Dawn

**A/N: **I think I should retract my last statement in the previous author's note. Here's chapter 43.

* * *

><p>He was the same, but better. Not ruled by foolish pride or other needless emotions, nor tied down by the obsession of becoming a legend in his own mind. For Naoki, it was much simpler than that. He just wanted to remain a child, and keep on playing. A pure desire if nothing else.<p>

They had never let him feel alive, he remembered. Studying, being kept in isolation, forced to be an obedient little puppet. Dragged to events that were designed for adults, and being expected to keep his mouth shut and his eyes forward. He'd spoken out once, having noticed that those so-called "friends" of his parents weren't towing their kids around on a leash. Why was he the only kid that attended the parties? Why was he the only one in his class who wasn't allowed to go outside and play in the rain or the snow? Why was he always the only one who had to stay indoors on weekends and holidays, with his nose buried in a book?

"Children are useless," his father would say. He would go on about how Naoki's time was better spent on the pursuit of becoming a quality human being. Not a useless little beast.

And when Naoki didn't agree, when he tried to question that divine logic handed to him, they would punish him. Sentenced him to long hours of reading aloud to them while they ignored every word that passed his lips by. And, sometimes, when his father decided to be a real bastard and go drinking, he'd come home and shout, insisting that the gods had given him a child who wasn't worth the time and money spent.

In fact, Naoki couldn't remember a time where he hadn't been told how useless he was. That's why he had decided to run, get away from them and their sick logic.

He'd always felt like he was less than the others around him. But here, creeping through the dark, his weapon at the ready with cold air being drawn into his lungs, he felt better; felt like he had been granted a perfect opportunity to show up all those proud, stupid bastards, and, in a sense, bring them all to their knees. Here, he was a predator, a liar and a crooked cop, only in the fray to service his own selfish delight.

They would know him when this was over. He'd be a media sensation, the talk of the town, if not the country and the world, for weeks on end. His name would be printed in newspapers and gossip rags, shown on the news and even within the infinite void of the internet, and they would all know who he was, what he had done. Everyone would know that he wasn't useless, a total disappointment.

It touched him gently, the soft graze of smoke wafting in the air. Up the ladder of the fire escape he went, the snow beneath his feet cushioning the steps, the cold song of steel and wind biting through his hands. He was expected to go right around the corner, to be caught in an obvious trap. All about him, the field was dark, lights peering through the curtain in short intervals, tall streetlights giving off so very little. On the ground, he could be taken easily, not being nearly as familiar with the district in which Naoki found himself.

On the rooftop, he could see them, a few people scurrying into buildings for shelter. But one, he noted, had crossed to the opposite side of the street and looked up at his perch, backing quietly away.

Six seconds, a sense of false security for quarry, expectant or not, before the first shot. One at the darkened ground where the person had entered, one at the far end by the streetlight to box them in, and two at the alley's center, which would strike if they ran back towards him. He counted under his breath, each floating up in a warm puff before being drained away. Three, four, five, and he jumped, the small snowbank cushioning the fall.

There was no sound, no hurried footsteps, no frightened breath or shouting. Just his own shoes crushing the substance below as Naoki crossed the street. Flashlight in hand, the beam touched down on the body, his face twisted in a disapproving scowl. Not at all who he had been after, but a boy, probably a high schooler, slumped against the wall, a small bottle of liquor held limply in his hand. He must have been running home in fear, perhaps to add the bottle to a stash hidden beneath his bed before the police caught wind of his actions.

"Dammit..." Naoki sighed quietly. Three of four had hit, but not at all a satisfying kill.

The bottle broke then, its contents burrowing into the slush, the glass spreading out around his feet. Naoki turned at the ready, staggering back, a bullet biting into his left side. It was from there there, where he had been perched only moments before, that the shot had come. He returned fire, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and waited out the short time he had allotted himself. But there was nothing. Again, no sound, no body doubling over to fall off and into the street. Just an empty expanse of black and white that taunted him. In fact, it was almost singing.

"_Useless. Useless. Useless."_

**# - # - # - # **

Through snow and wind he could hear them, the shots that seemed to follow at his heels through this insane maze. Even the blare of the sirens that were surely speeding closer. One of them would eventually catch up, so why run? Better to remain stationary and wait, see who came to die first, and watch the other run in circles, searching for an answer. Either way, the odds weren't favorable. Fail, and be taken by a squad of idiot officers, or take a chance with outgunning a traitorous marksman. No matter the path, someone in this circle of hell would die, and leave a pool of blood in the snow before the sun woke and kissed the sky.

It should have always been a question in his mind, from the day he'd developed it, as to whether or not this game of his had been a good idea. By the standard of any sane person, it would have been written off as an eventual suicide. But by that of someone like him, someone who couldn't stand the thought of being bested at their own design, it was, to a degree, rational. Who in the world would set out with their goal in mind, and be content to watch someone else reach it first, or even tamper with and make improvements?

So people had had to die for him to reach the end of the grand design. It didn't matter. Not really. People died, children were born, and new lives were conceived each and every day. The population already seemed to be spiraling out of control, what with the planet's last count reaching somewhere into the billions. A few dozen people used as pawns, a hundred or so additional lives personally affected, was a statistic he could easily live with. For now, they would be missed, only to be forgotten as that string called time continued to stretch forth.

"It's about damned time you got out of my head..."

It was finally gone, the vivid dream that had been plaguing him for the past several days. Perhaps it had even been weeks. He didn't know, couldn't, what with being incredibly light-headed, and the cold sapping away sensation. It was a damned miracle he hadn't dropped already, putting out all this energy and taking in nothing at all.

He hadn't even noticed that the sirens had stopped.

People like Naoki were idiots, making the rest of the damned world pay for the suffering endured in his own personal hell. Driven by emotion rather than a question, expecting to right every wrong hand ever dealt in his direction. That's what made them different. It wasn't about being better, but being right. Formulating a means by which to test a theory and predict an outcome. People naturally reacted negatively to mass panic and death, be it expected or not. Was there a limit to their responses, could it fly off the scale, and could one simply kill for pleasure and walk away without being found out?

Had it not been for this little bastard, no one would have known the difference. The police would have spent years looking for a perpetrator, perhaps even suspecting him, but without the evidence needed to keep their search alive..

That's why he had to humor the little traitor with this last round. Let Naoki deal enough damage to draw blood, and kill him with the claim that Mayuri himself had been the intended target from the start, rather than the spree's instigator.

"I've had enough of your damned games."

What a time for the brilliant little brat to show up, just before the claim could be wrapped up and sold. His eyes were tired and starved, hands shaking as he silently tromped through the snow.

"Don't even think of running again," he said, stepping aside. They followed him like trained dogs, still relying on the master, unable to do anything of their own accord. Even so, they were armed. Clearly, one wrong move, and the boy's hand would fall and signal the last of the endgame. "I want to hear you say it, so I'll only ask once: Did you kill them?"

Children made no sense. At one point or another, they always seemed to ask questions to which they knew the answer. Toshiro knew the chaos he'd created, must have for some time now, but had been unable to bring himself to tear apart the woman he surely loved like a mother. He'd allowed himself to be taken by doubt, by personal involvement, and it had hindered him.

How horrendously stupid children were.

"Do you even need to ask?"

Still watching them, Mayuri didn't move; wouldn't give these idiots the satisfaction of taking him this way. He couldn't be bested by idiots. Least of all those who didn't have enough sense to distinguish between two entirely different methods of murder. Even so, they wanted it to be him. The way they watched, stuck here in the cold, but heated by their hatred, he could see that they wanted to believe that he'd killed one of their own. They'd rather pin it on him than on their pack's rabid stray.

"Just answer the damned question!" the boy shouted, flustered. He was shaking even more now. "I'm not gonna ask you again!"

Where was the fun in all this? Penned in by the city's finest collection of trigger-happy dogs was the last thing he'd wanted, let alone anticipated. It was a way out of the pit, but not at all the preferred way.

He almost wished that, somehow, Retsu would show up and lie for him the way he knew she would. Talk the little brat into sparing his guilty ass. That way, at least, Toshiro would be reminded as to why he hadn't pursued this path in the first place. Little thing couldn't stand to break the woman's heart.

Too bad it was just a passing thought.

"Where is Naoki?!"

The boy's mouth kept moving, but Mayuri couldn't hear a damned thing. Then Toshiro stopped, eyes wide as he seemed to stand taller, hands reaching out as he turned his back, drawing his own weapon to fire.

So, in all the fuss, that stupid bastard had crept in behind the police and, without the slightest bit of hesitation, let him have it. The impact was just a jolt, like a minor electric shock from an outlet that would send a child reeling backwards and onto the kitchen floor.

It was funny. All that time spent insisting that the two of them were entirely different, only to be shown at the end of it all, that, in one respect, they were the same: Neither one could stand the thought of being bested in this bloody game.

At that moment, there was just sky. The buildings that had loomed overhead suddenly disappearing, giving way to that vast expanse that rained ice down upon them. No light, no sound, no thoughts, no feelings. Just an empty sky that drew in the color that, at the same time, was swiftly being lost.

"_Are you dead?"_

Maybe.

"_Are you sure?"_


	44. Pale White Pieces

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 44: **Pale White Pieces

* * *

><p>What in the hell had just happened? His mind couldn't fathom it, couldn't keep up with the speed at which things were happening. He seemed to be frozen, not just by the winter storm, but by his own shock and fear. Toshiro had had no idea that, at such an early hour in the morning, he would be caught in the middle of a bout of silent warfare. It was too much to make sense of, his head struggling to piece together the time line, determine what had happened to lead up to the final outcome in which he found himself entrenched.<p>

All he could think was "no." No matter what had just occurred, no one here could lay down and die until he knew what was going on.

The moment he turned his head, it all spun wildly out of control, sending him flying to the wet ground as gunfire blazed around him. Not once had Toshiro imagined that this would happen; that, in the middle of an official investigation, he would find himself clutching his grazed shoulder in an attempt to stop the burning. The sound died down then, his legs moving beneath him again, pushing his body up to lean against the wall.

Many of the windows of the patrol cars were cracked, some even falling into the seats. Doors were popped full of holes, but they were still standing. His men were still standing, not a one having been touched, so far as his eyes could see. Unfortunate that the same couldn't be said for Naoki. He was lying in the street, bleeding, but alive. Certainly well enough to begin chattering on about his victory as he was cuffed and loaded into the back of one of their cars.

What startled Toshiro was the mention of Tachibana's name. That he had been just the one needed to get this wild chain of events to fall into the final stage. It made him ill, knowing that someone they had all trusted, if only for a short time, had gone and killed one of their very own.

It felt like he'd been shot in the chest.

"Get him out of here," he instructed, holding his shoulder tighter. "Set up a barricade, too. No one is to get through or onto this street until we've finished."

He had entirely forgotten the fact that a medic was going to be needed.

Toshiro leaned back against the wall and allowed himself to slide back to the ground, not at all bothered by the fact that he would end up soaked within minutes.

Really, he wanted to go home. To crawl into bed and catch up on all the sleep he'd been missing for all this time. It had gone on for weeks, tormenting him whether he sat up late or not. This case had been the reason for his pressing insomnia, haunting him even more heavily during sleep than in his wakeful hours. But, for the sake of understanding, for closing the door on a seven-year case, he would force himself through yet another sleepless night, and keep on.

"I'll be honest, Mayuri..." he muttered, eyes closed. "I hope that scared the shit out of you..."

The officer was genuinely expecting to be chewed out for that remark, if not fully berated for being an incompetent child with an obsession. But people like Mayuri would certainly know something of obsessions, wouldn't they? Even so, Toshiro was sure that even that fact wouldn't stop the man from being a bastard and even a hypocrite. Quietly, he sat there, waiting for the moment to come wherein everything would become clear; something incriminating would slip out and into his hands, giving him the confession he needed to go ahead and tear down the man's damned pride.

When it failed to come, he opened his eyes, shocked out of his wits to see the bastard lying on the cold ground, watching him with a distant gaze.

Toshiro jumped, barking orders as he grabbed hold of the man's coat, hoping to get something, anything, out of him.

"Tell me, dammit!" he hissed, forgetting about his aching shoulder. "You killed them, didn't you?! You've been playing god all this time, scaring the hell out of all these poor people! Making Retsu think you were everything she wanted; jerking both of us around!"

Though it was against protocol and his own standards, Toshiro wanted to beat the living hell out of him, make him spill his damned secrets and whatever else he'd been hiding. Falsified documents, tampered evidence, methodology, motive, everything and anything that could be used to end all this, restore peace to the city, and get Retsu out of the whole of this hellish nightmare.

It should have been frightening, not only to Toshiro and his officers, but to Mayuri as well. Anyone in this great wide world should have been horrified of death, done anything to avoid it and keep on with self-preservation. But as the boy sat there, shouting in earnest for a medic, for help, his hands fighting to subdue mortal injury, he was in complete shock, appalled by the sight of this man laughing at him, and in the face of death.

"No!" He was panicked, trying to think of some way, any way, to make this stop, to keep this bastard alive. Toshiro didn't think, just kept forcing hands against the worst of the wounds, praying that it would work somehow. It scared the hell out of him, knowing that he was feeling someone die. "You have to tell me first, dammit!

Everything he had worked for these past several months, every effort he'd made to uncover the truth was slipping through his fingers to stain the ground.

"I have to know! For everyone who's died, I have to know if it's your fault!"

The moment that paper had been found with Tachibana's corpse, he had known that Naoki had some involvement in the case. He just hadn't known what. He had been unable to decide whether or not there were two killers, or just one; whether or not this was a game, or just some twisted, senseless rampage. But what bothered him the most was that he hadn't acted on his instinct at first, getting Retsu the hell out of dodge before going in there and dragging Mayuri out in cuffs. But more than that, he hated himself for not realizing that Kisuke Urahara had been right.

"_You will know,"_ he had said, puzzling as ever. And Toshiro had known, in his heart, who had been terrorizing them all. He just hadn't known how to act upon it, what with someone so close to him as Retsu being involved, and on such a personal and intimate level.

A flagpole, he remembered. Urahara's body had been strung up on a flagpole. It should have occurred to him then that there was a second killer, rather than the moment where an innocent woman and loving mother had been beaten in her hotel room. And that raised yet another question. How in the hell could someone like her have loved someone so cold, even if he was her son?

That sick feeling came back to him, remembering how eager he'd been to take her apart. But now, at the end, Toshiro imagined that Mayuri had known that there was a mimic running about, waiting to challenge him.

And Nemu. What had happened to her and Uryu? Had they just run off one night to escape? Had she known anything about this, or had she been entirely oblivious to the fact that her father was a murderer? Toshiro grimaced. And who, in the name of the gods, had killed her mother that night seven years ago?

There was that damned look in his eyes again, the very same one that had mocked Toshiro countless times. So Mayuri come to terms with the fact that he'd lost his own damned game, that he'd be killed by the traitor that they'd both been hunting. Toshiro wanted to scream. He hated that look, hated the things that it told him. That he was right, that he had failed and would be branded a burden and a child. He hated knowing that, at this rate, he was never going to receive the confession he had worked so hard to procure.

What if he brought Retsu into it? Would he try to live for her, or had she just been a pawn to be used against his investigation?

"Did you lie to her, too?" the boy whispered, trembling. He didn't know what he wanted to hear now. "Was she just another tool for your sick game? Did she... ever mean anything?"

It seemed the sudden silence was trying to tell him something, and yet, Toshiro had no idea. Were the answers to his questions what he wanted to hear, or not?

His wide eyes were burning then, remembering everything Retsu had ever told him. She had insisted that he was wrong, that he and his people were misinterpreting everything about this man in their desperation. She had said that Akemi was attached to him, often crying when she'd be left behind. He remembered how she had talked about him, as if they'd known each other forever. More than anything, he recalled the way she had admired his spirit, the fire in his eyes.

And, just like that, it was gone.

The boy captain sighed, feeling defeated. It didn't matter now. Some of his questions would be answered someday, but others had died in his arms. Those, he knew, he could never get back.

"What a fool I am," he said sitting back, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. Eyes closed, the boy tried to imagine that he hadn't just felt someone's life bleeding out through his fingers. He tried to imagine that there was still something left in the body. Something that was still alive and breathing. "I should have hauled you the moment I suspected something... instead of letting my fears take me over."

He should have come onto the scene fully prepared to deal with something like this; to ensure that those in question came out of this alive. Dead suspects served no purpose. They just left a gaping hole in this still shaky puzzle. A hole that, now, Toshiro knew he could never truly fill.

"If I had, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe the body count wouldn't have kept climbing. Maybe... Maybe I wouldn't have to tell Retsu. Destroy her hopes and leave her waiting for someone that'll never come home again..."

Everyone had been right about him. Even being a police captain, he was still a child first. And, as a child, he'd never be able to put all this out of his head. Due to his inexperience, he would be forever reminded of all the lives he hadn't been able to save. Even this last one.

"Captain? Sir, are you all right?"

Toshiro didn't look up. Just nodded in confirmation and continued to stare at the ground that should have only been covered in snow. He realized that he wasn't quite so immune to the sight of blood after all.

"I'm fine," he whispered, but it tasted a lie. In fact, he was anything but.

He sensed the hesitation from his comrade, but knew that she was swallowing it down. Just the way he was swallowing the urge to sit there and give in to his sorrow.

"Sir, we've called for a medic," the woman said softly. "They should arrive in minutes."

Once again, he nodded, and listened as she turned and walked back through the snow, perhaps to give him time alone to think.

"We're fragile. In the end, we are only pieces... we become broken and are scattered... falling back down upon the world..."

To no one in particular, he whispered a gentle apology, allowed his head to rest upon his knees, and cried.

* * *

><p>I assume that, by this point, your minds are nothing short of blown. If you have any questions, please hang onto them and place them at the end of your reviews, or in a short PM. At the very end of the next chapter, I shall answer whatever questions I have received.<p> 


	45. End Game

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Bleach_, _or any of the characters used in this fic. They all belong to Tite Kubo. I only own any of my original characters that I choose to include, as well as any of my own original plot ideas.

**Ch 45: **End Game

**A/N: **After fourteen months, it's finally finished. Any questions you may have about the story may be left as comments on entries in the "Chasing Ghosts" tag within my LiveJournal writing community, as I will not be editing these chapters to add responses.

The support my readers have given me for this story has been astounding. Without all of you leaving such quality reviews and kind messages, I doubt this would have become my favorite project to date. Thank you all very much. I hope you've enjoyed yourselves as much as I have, and that you'll continue to enjoy the world that can open up with reading. I also hope that, should you find time, you will also enjoy my newest project, "The Mechanical Grave."

Again, thank you all for taking the time to read this.

* * *

><p>A newspaper was dropped promptly on his desk, disrupting his writing. He set the pen down and looked up at Matsumoto for a moment, his gaze falling back upon the paper. She was beaming, and rightfully so. The case involving underground drug sales had found itself a place on the front page along with praise for his department. It had taken months to get his men in there, to ensure that the cartel would trust them, accept them as their own. Now, it was blown wide open, the most shocking revelation being that one of the NPA's higher-ranking officers had been in charge of leading the sales.<p>

"Doesn't it feel good, Captain," she smiled, "to get this out of your hair?"

Toshiro nodded, taking the paper and setting it aside. "Has everyone else seen it?"

Matsumoto nodded, leaning over the desk to read his report. "The moment I saw it this morning, I went and bought everyone a copy." She pointed to the paper, red hair hanging over her shoulder. "That one's yours, Captain."

"Is it? I appreciate that, Matsumoto."

He didn't look up, even as she continued chattering on, intent on finishing the work he'd already started. It was a great bit of encouragement to bring something like this to the attention of the public, to ensure their safety, but all this good news came with a downside: Paperwork.

The captain turned his chair around and stared at her, having been pushed away from his desk to allow her access to the drawers. He didn't begrudge her for being excited, but she should have had the courtesy to wait until he was finished. Or, at the very least, ask if he could get something for her. Toshiro hated people going through his things.

"You still have them?" the woman chimed, eyes wide. She pulled a stack of folders from the bottom drawer and held them tightly against her chest with a mischievous smile. "I thought these were supposed to go to the records room."

Having been so caught up in exposing the cartel, he'd forgotten about those files entirely. Considering everything that had happened in that last case, it should have remained with him for all this time. Funny how he'd forgotten about the very chain of events that had sent her away, had almost driven him to cut all ties to the police force.

"It's a closed case, you know."

Toshiro scowled, pushing his chair back to the desk. "To you and everyone else, maybe," he muttered grimly. "But I'm still not satisfied."

How could he have been? He'd dragged in multiple suspects, narrowed it down to just two, and had lost the greatest contributing factor to the case. And at the last minute, too.

"But Captain, didn't you see the article last week? Naoki admitted that the murders were all his doing."

He sighed. That sounded like him. Last he'd talked to the man, everything had come out about how he didn't want to be useless, how he wanted the world to know his name, know that he was capable of everything and anything imaginable. Even if he had wanted to say otherwise, Toshiro didn't have the resources to prove that the claim was false. The higher-ups wouldn't simply take his word and consider it fact. They wanted proof, hard evidence, and he'd never be able to give it to them.

The only downside about being a police officer was coming to terms with the fact that the end result wasn't always what it should have been.

"How's Gin, by the way?" Toshiro glanced at the snow globe on the corner of his desk. Thinking about Karin had made him remember that Matsumoto had a bit of a love life as well. "I hope he's staying out of trouble."

They were promptly interrupted, the boisterous voice of Shunsui Kyoraku filling the office, Nanao filing in behind him with a glare. Evidently, he was neglecting his duties once again. The man laughed, going on with teasing the woman as though they were alone in private. Toshiro was almost hopeful that she would silence him with a good slap, but she remained still and silent.

"And how is our boy genius doing this fine day?" the man smirked, leaning over Toshiro's shoulder. "Not busy with paperwork, I hope." He ruffled the captain's hair. "Young boys like you should be out doing more important things, like getting into trouble with beautiful girls, or stealing alcohol from vending machines."

"I do hope you're not implying things about yourself," Toshiro replied. "Otherwise, I'd have to arrest you right here. Besides, you shouldn't be talking about things like that in front of an officer. Much less inside police headquarters."

Shunsui quickly shut his mouth, though the smile still remained. All was silent until Matsumoto scurried out of the room, towing Nanao along with her.

"You're still thinking about what happened, aren't you?" The man sighed, sitting on the edge of the desk. "Can't blame you though. Truly, I can't stop myself, either. Can't help wondering what she was thinking, just leaving like she did. Without so much as a word to anyone."

Toshiro nodded, biting his lip. "What about you?" He watched the man quizzically. "Would you have the heart to stay if Nanao were gone?"

"No. I suppose not."

The fan on the ceiling clicked in tandem with the scratching of his pen upon paper, both their voices silenced for a time. Still, he couldn't focus, couldn't stop thinking about all the lies he was allowing to slip through the grate, even though he had no power with which to stop them.

"It's a nice day for a train ride, you know," Shunsui quipped. "I hear it might start raining soon. Wouldn't want a dedicated officer like you to end up sick, would we?"

Toshiro looked up at him, puzzled by the statement. It made no sense for him to take the train home. The bus was closer to headquarters, and would take him just down the street from his front door. So why the suggestion?

"I should get out of your way," he said, heading to the door. "It seems you don't have much time until you head home. Wouldn't want you to stay any later than necessary."

"What's so interesting about the train?" Toshiro blurted, suspicious.

Without turning back, Shunsui stopped in the doorway and sighed. "Like I said, Captain. It's just a nice day for a train ride. That's all."

The door closed behind him, the sound of footsteps in the hallway dying down as they went further away. The boy grimaced, yanking a blank folder out of the desk and shoving the unfinished report inside as he grabbed his coat and scarf. The lights and the fan were shut off as he flipped the switch on the wall, closing the door behind him as he went to clock out. A few minutes early, but it wouldn't kill him. If anyone higher up on the chain asked, he'd simply say that he had received an urgent family call, or that he hadn't been feeling too well. Such was one of the perks of being seen as a child. People didn't really expect that he had the capabilities to handle such a large workload.

"I'm going home, Matsumoto," he said as she trailed behind him. "Make sure your work is done before you leave."

He was sure she nodded, as she remained silent, still following. As he pushed through the front door, Toshiro turned to meet her gaze.

She smiled. "Goodnight, Captain."

"Goodnight, Matsumoto."

Outside, the air was chilled, stinging the inside of his nose as he breathed it in. Down the street a ways, the bus sat, spewing dark smoke that vanished before it reached the second floors of surrounding buildings. He stood there quietly, the folder tucked under his arm, watching as people got on board before the metal beast merged back into traffic, engine roaring and wheels screeching.

Toshiro shrugged, crossing the street with a crowd before turning and heading towards the train station.

It sickened him to think that everyone believed in a lie. Naoki had turned traitor and played along with the chaos to prove a point. Like so many others, he wanted to prove that he wasn't useless, and, to do that, he'd killed and lied for nothing. Just so he could be a hero in his own mind.

As it poured through his hair, Toshiro didn't feel the rain as it came down. He just kept walking, as if on autopilot, mind spinning. Even if things were different, if he still had a way to show the truth, he wouldn't. She was gone, but she must have been watching, if only to make sure he was all right in this wild city. Even so far away, he couldn't put his information out in the open. Even if nobody else believed him, Toshiro knew that she would.

What he knew, what he wanted everyone else to know, could never be public.

When he reached the station, he flew down the steps, shaking the water out of his hair and onto the floor before he stepped onto the platform, wondering why in the hell he was taking the advice of someone like Shunsui Kyoraku. Half the time, one couldn't even see outside from the train tracks; just a big, long tunnel. Then he remembered. He'd purposely missed the damn bus.

He sighed as the doors to the car opened and he was jostled by several other people, squirming and squeezing between them to move to the next car, which seemed to be less crowded. He sat down in a corner seat, sighing and checking the folder over. All pages present, he began to read over the incomplete report, taking a pen and crossing out things that were repetitive, mundane, or just too lengthy for his liking.

As he edited the pages, Toshiro grimaced, half-listening to a phone conversation that was happening on the opposite side of the car.

"It's been three months already. They're foolish, but the police aren't so stupid as to waste funds on looking for someone who doesn't exist. Idiot."

No surprise, hearing that citizens thought the police force was full of idiots. Plenty of people didn't take kindly to law enforcement, even in regards to simple things like traffic regulations and tickets. But that was just how things were. There would always be people who appreciated their work, and others who just wished they'd get the hell out of dodge. Either way, Toshiro was set on staying on the force for a very long time.

The conversation continued, the little pieces he heard suddenly becoming much more interesting than the report. He listened for a time, often wondering what the person on the other end of the line was saying, and what the point of the call was.

When the train stopped, the doors open and he stood up, scurrying onto the platform in silence, catching wind of the conversation's end.

"Quit whining. The train's just pulled in. I'll be at the airport in ten."

Toshiro shrugged off his curiosity, remembering that it really wasn't any of his business, and promptly headed for the stairs. Once outside, he pulled the coat up over his head to block out the rain. When he got home, he'd have to change into something warm and hang his uniform up to dry.

The boy captain turned to head towards the crosswalk on the street corner, suddenly walking into a crowd and slamming into someone. He stumbled back, catching himself on the heel of his shoe as he twisted his ankle a bit, grimacing.

"Dammit..." He murmured the curse under his breath, remembering that he'd possibly caused someone else some discomfort as well. "Sorry," he said, looking up. "I wasn't watching where I was..."

Toshiro stepped back, ankle forgotten, his hand itching to grab his phone and call for backup.

He must have been dreaming, seeing things that were brought about by his immeasurable guilt. He'd heard about officers who had been unable to save people, unable to bring some to justice, who had promptly quit their jobs, or even drowned themselves in liquor, among other things.

The examiner had asked him, he remembered, what was to be done about the body. By the time he'd been approached, Retsu had already come and gone, and he had been left with nothing but a number. So he'd insisted they do with it what they thought was best, considering there was nobody he could contact to make arrangements for a burial. After that, he hadn't heard a word about it; had decided that it wasn't really any of his concern, what with his suspect dead.

Standing in the rain, his shocked expression was met with rather obvious annoyance on the man's face before the accident was shrugged off without a word. The boy's eyes followed him as he moved, appalled that that same sick feeling was welling up in his gut again. The feeling that had always come about every time he'd put on that damned smile. It was all he could do to stand still with his mouth wide open as he received a pat on the head.

He could do nothing but stand there, remembering that cold December morning three months ago, where he'd been sure that he'd watched this man die. And yet, there he was, walking away, just as real as anyone else on this street.

Toshiro fingered the phone in his pocket, unsure of what to do.

Should he get hold of her, let her know, tell her the truth?

But, watching him go, Toshiro shook his head. No. He didn't want to drag her back here, make her go through another little piece of hell when, last he'd heard, she'd come to terms with what had happened.

Really, she was better off forgetting that he'd ever existed. As were the rest of them.


End file.
